Least Expected
by TheKnittingLady
Summary: Leave it to Dr. Reid. All he did was go buy a book. Now every nightmare and every dream is coming true.
1. Prologue

_Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you._

 _\- Loretta Young_

* * *

 **Prologue**

"I knew I'd find you here."

Spencer Reid didn't look up as he felt Penelope Garcia sit on the bench beside him. "You did?"

"Yeah. After you went all quiet at the meeting last night." She'd started dragging him to her support group meetings. It seemed to help.

"You noticed."

"Yeah." She put an arm around him. "She wouldn't want you to keep it in you know. From what you've told me about Maeve she wasn't like that."

"No, she wouldn't. She wasn't." Spencer sighed and looked down at the grave of his first true love. "I just don't...didn't think anyone would understand."

"We might not, but we'll at least listen. We'll try." Penelope smiled a little. "See, what's been bugging me is that you got really quiet when Raquel started talking about losing her Dominant, and how his family pushed her away because they didn't understand their relationship." She looked over and saw the blush starting to rise in her friend's cheeks. "Most people think it's all negative, abusive stuff but a relationship like that can be a really special one. It can be about someone who is really strong and confident in themselves and very comfortable with sex and creativity helping someone who might have some places in their life where they're not so strong and confident."

"You mean like making sure someone takes their vitamins and gets to bed on time and promising that they would make blindfolds fun again?" Blush complete.

Penelope could not believe what she was hearing. "Spencer Reid! You naughty thing!"

"What? It was between us. It's not..."

"I know. We tend to see the dark side of everything because of work, but life isn't always like that. Most of the time it's good. If that's the sort of thing you're into there's nothing wrong with that. I just didn't realize your relationship was that special."

"I didn't know how to talk about it."

"I know."

"And I honestly don't know for certain if it is...something I'm into. It's not like I ever tried. I've never done anything."

Anything? Of course he...wait a minute. "Are you telling me my junior G-man is still a virgin?"

His lack of an answer was an answer in itself. "And what are my chances of finding this again?"

"Oh sweetie." She pulled his head to her shoulder. "You'll find it. Probably when you least expect it."

* * *

.

* * *

Thank you all for being so very patient with me. I had a bit of a flare up of a chronic issue but all is well now and I've been able to start writing again.

I wasn't going to publish this until I finished _Understanding_ , which I will before Christmas, but all things considered I feel like this story needs to be out in the world. People have been asking me for a story with this element in it, and I've finally found a way to make it work. And given recent events in the US I think it needs to happen now.

Thank you all for indulging me.

Set between seasons 10 and 11, when JJ was near to the end of her pregnancy, except for the Prologue which is set a few months after the events of 08x12 "Zugzwang", and told somewhat out of order. Trigger warning for BDSM and rape, but as usual this will be the rated M version.


	2. Chapter 1

**Part One**

 **Chapter 01  
Day 07**

 _(Warning for whump and rape aftermath)_

They found him in a locker room of sorts. Open toilets on one side, sinks on the other, the far end a large, open shower. Derek Morgan didn't count the perps, Unsubs no longer, they pulled out of that room, but it was too many, regardless.

Too many.

Some of the showers were still running, washing the blood and everything else down the drain.

He looked over the battered body lying on the tiles. There were bruises already forming on his torso, there were lumps under the skin of his hands and wrists that should not be there and elsewhere there were marks he did not want to consider. But what worried him most was the dull, distant look in his friends eyes. "Reid?"

There was no reply.

"Reid?"

Nothing.

"Spencer?!" Morgan wanted to shake his shoulder, but at least one looked out of joint, and he didn't want to cause him any more pain. He looked at the doorway. "Medic! Get a medic in here!"

It was utter chaos in the rest of the building, but there were paramedics coming in right behind all the cops. And DC paramedics weren't the sort to let the occasional bit of fighting stop them. Or a worried FBI agent either. They shoved Morgan out of the way as they went to work. "Make sure we don't get shot in the back." Was all they said.

"Yeah." Morgan replied. He and the cop with him went to guard the door. He was careful, made sure the chaos of a multiple perpetrator/multiple victim raid didn't get in the way, but at the same time he kept one ear cocked for what the medics were saying.

It did not sound good.

It wasn't long before the sound of a helo started rattling the building. "That's your boy's bus." The medic said. "We need a path to the elevator."

Morgan checked. "I can get you one." He got on the radio. After a minute a pathway through the chaos opened. "Come on." He escorted the gurney through the mess at a near run, pushing aside one...Unsub? victim? he couldn't tell... who got too close, and then another. And another.

"Jesus." The medic said.

"No kidding." Morgan replied. He had no clue why it was such a mess. There were ample agents and local LEO's to make this work. That was why Hotch had sent him in with one mission, find Spencer and get him out.

The elevator was calm, thankfully. When they got to the garage level the elevator opened and they ran through a cordon of officers and firemen and vehicles, up the ramp and out, turn left, down a block to where the helo waited in the middle of the Navy Memorial Plaza, a space with ample room to set down.

Mission accomplished.

One problem. "No room for a passenger!" The medic called out as they started loading Spencer up.

There was only one trauma center in DC that had a helipad. "We'll meet him there!" He replied.

"Got it."

Morgan ran for the nearest car as the helo took off for the heavens.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 02  
Day 07**

There was one ER in the area that could take a helo. By the time Hotch and Dave got free of the chaos downtown they found Morgan, JJ and Penelope waiting. Morgan was there because Hotch told him to be there, Penelope because she couldn't help downtown and JJ because she was too full of baby to manage more than a stately waddle these days. She was due in under two weeks, which meant any time.

But unable to move did not mean unable to think. She was coordinating everything at the hospital until Hotch got there. "How is he?" he asked.

"They took him down for an MRI." JJ replied. "And then he's going in to surgery depending on what they see."

"MRI? Head trauma?" Dave asked.

"They don't know. Maybe."

This was not something any of them even wanted to consider. What would their friend be like without his amazing mind intact? How would that affect his spirit? Did they want to know? "If not head trauma then why the surgery?" Dave asked.

"Fractured penis." Morgan said. "Yeah, I don't want to think to hard about that either."

There was nothing they could do but wait. So they waited.

An hour

Penelope got an e-mail. "So it looks like all the victims shopped at the same store." She said. "Spencer picked up some books there two weeks before he went missing."

"And somehow this gang decided he fit their parameters for a target." Dave said.

"All this over some books." JJ replied. "We have to teach him how to shop on Amazon."

Two hours

"What are we going to do if..." Penelope couldn't finish.

"We do what we can." Hotch replied. "This caught us out of nowhere."

Finally the doctor came to the waiting area. "Doctor Reid?"

The team gathered around, Hotch showing his power of attorney. "We're all family." He said. "What happened?"

"A lot." The doctor replied. She moved them to a private space to talk. "As far as major injuries go we're looking at broken bones and the genital trauma. We've had to splint both hands and wrists and reset his shoulder. He also has some cracked ribs. It looks like he took a boot to the kidneys; we're keeping an eye on that. The good news is that the surgery was textbook, he should be back to normal in that regard in about four to six weeks."

"How does that happen?" Morgan asked.

"In this case, blunt force trauma."

No, they did not want to think about that. "So the rape kit came back positive?" Dave asked.

The doctor sighed and nodded. "Multiple donors." This was not a surprise, but not a conformation anyone wanted. "Right now his condition is baffling. He's not showing any sign of head trauma, not even a black eye, and all the tox screens came back clean, but he's non-responsive."

"Non-responsive?" JJ asked.

"He's in a coma." The doctor replied. "And we have no idea why."

* * *

They filed into his room quietly. The room was filled with monitors, tracking every breath, every heartbeat. And in the center of it all lay their friend, breathing on his own at least, his eyes closed, not moving. He looked like he could get up at any moment, and likely be really irritated at the casts that covered him from elbow to fingertip. He looked like he would open his eyes and smile and be so glad to see them.

"Spence?" JJ called.

No response.

"Spency." Penelope said. She reached out and gently rubbed his arm above the cast where it wouldn't hurt. "You need to wake up. I made you cake."

Nothing.

"Hey, pretty boy." Morgan nudged a foot under a blanket. "Come on now."

Nope.

Dave nodded them out to the hallway again. "We should start taking shifts." He said. "Staying with him."

"I don't get it." Morgan said. "He was fine before the raid. We saw him through the window. It was only three hours until we got to him; he had to have spent most of it in that locker room."

"A lot can happen in three hours." JJ said.

"Yeah, but there was nothing in there that would have caused this. I mean yeah, we all know what they did, and he got a beat down, but any injury that would have caused this would have shown up somewhere."

"Drugs?"

"They didn't find anything."

"Yeah, but there were a lot of drugs there. It could be something not covered in the standard test."

"We need more information." Hotch said.

"Yeah, but how do we get it?" Morgan asked. "Everyone up there was either an Unsub or high as a kite."

"Petty Officer Johnson seemed like a good source." Dave said. "We'll contact NCIS in the morning, see if they can set up an interview. Maybe he knows something we don't. In the meantime who's staying tonight? Not you JJ."

"I don't know." She rubbed her stomach. "Closer to maternity here."

It was a joke, and a needed one. "I'll stay." Morgan said. "Baby girl, spell me in the morning?"

"Sure." Penelope said. "I'll bring coffee."

"All right." Hotch nodded. "We'll pick it up in the morning. He's safe tonight."

* * *

Late that night Derek Morgan sat and watched the man lying silently in the bed. For all he knew little brother was asleep. If he shook him he knew Spencer would open his eyes a slit, but wouldn't be looking at anything. But they said people like that could hear so maybe...

"Hey kid." Morgan said. "I don't know if you can hear me or not. Look, I know what you went through, all right? Maybe not exactly but I get it. I just want you to know that I am living proof that you can come out the other end and have a good life. It's not easy, I know that, and it's not quick but it can be done. And you don't have to heal from this alone. I'm going to be there the whole way."

Hope you heard me, Morgan thought, as he settled back for the night.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03  
Day 08**

The next morning Hotch and Dave went to interview the only victim awake and talking.

Petty Officer Paul Johnson was a Navy Corpsman, a medic, commonly assigned to a USMC Force Recon unit. He had the training and experience to keep his head during a long period of captivity. He'd been picked up by the human trafficking gang three months before, apparently for his skills, not his looks. They met him in an interview room at the Navy Yard, where he looked exhausted and frail but relieved to be back in uniform.

After the usual questions about how he was taken, what he did in captivity, and so on, they got down to it. "We had an agent involved up there." Dave said.

"Yeah, Spencer. Reid. I knew him. He and Joe ended up together."

"Joe?"

"Yeah. The leaders of the gang assigned them. Joe was his handler, a trustee assigned to make sure he did what they wanted, kept him cleaned up, that sort of thing."

"Did you know them well?"

"Yeah. Joe is a psychiatrist, an MD. That came in real handy when some of the others overdosed. We worked together to try to find a way out of there, but we never did."

"Drugs were common up there?"

"Yeah. The boss let everyone have whatever they wanted, so long as they stayed quiet and compliant. Most everyone used something at some point. I never could get them to stop." He sighed like this was a personal failing.

"From what we heard you kept people alive." Dave said. "They're calling this a domestic terrorist type situation. You did your duty in there."

"I'm holding to that, Sir."

"Did Joe or Spencer ever use anything?"

"No, never." Paul studied them for a moment and then nodded to the recording switch. Hotch turned it off. "Off the record?"

"Off the record we know he had a problem once." Hotch said.

Paul nodded. "He told us. Said he'd been clean for years and wasn't going to break it now. And never did."

"Good to know. Thank you." Hotch turned the recording back on. "Did they ever give the victims anything?"

"Only once. Joe and Spencer. They gave them something that made it so they couldn't talk. I don't know what it was but the last couple of days neither of them said a word. Spencer took responsibility for it; he said he made a mistake with the Unsub, what he called it."

That was interesting. "But Joe was still able to care for him?"

"Yeah, those two were real right. They knew each other before, or so Joe told me, they knew each other's families. They didn't need to talk to communicate."

That was interesting as well. "They never gave him anything made him unconscious for a length of time?" Dave asked.

"No. Wait, let me guess. He's walking around like a zombie, not looking at anyone, not responding when you talk to him?"

"Something like that."

"He was like that every time he came down from the upper floor. Every time they assaulted him. It wasn't physical or pharmaceutical, it was psychological. Joe knew how to kick him out of it, but never told me how."

* * *

They called Morgan and Penelope back at the hospital who shared with the doctor. "Conversion Disorder." The doctors finally decided.

"Conversion Disorder?" Penelope asked.

"It's a type of stress reaction, rare but documented." The doctor said. "The mind can only handle so much sudden, traumatic stress. Past that point the brain converts some of the reaction to physical symptoms as a way of managing the stress load. Shutting down senses, resulting in blindness, deafness and so on, is a very common reaction, similar to an ongoing seziure."

"And you think that's what this is?" Morgan asked.

"Well it is more common in women, but he's in the right age group. And he does have a family history of mental illness. Has he suffered from any mental illness of his own recently? A period of depression, an emotional trauma?"

"His girlfriend was shot in front of him." Morgan said. "But that was a year and a half ago."

"Yeah, but it was a thing for a really long time for him." Penelope replied.

"That would do it." The doctor said. "Any history of physical or sexual abuse or neglect in childhood?"

"Yeah." Morgan replied. "To all of it."

"So he has four out of five risk factors. Add in a trauma..."

"He's been beaten before though."

"I don't know. Whatever did it his mind's protecting itself. It doesn't know that the trauma is over so it's not letting him out."

"But somehow this Joe person figured out how to get in there and let him know it was over?" Penelope said. "That he was safe, at least for the moment."

"Psychiatrist." Morgan replied. "Must have. We need to find this Joe."

"DCPD has a list of all the victims." Penelope turned to her laptop and looked. "No Josephs, no Joes."

"Okay, he has to be in there."

"Nope. They did not identify any victim named Joe...and no Unsubs either. There were no Joes in the building."

"Son of a bitch." Morgan said. "I'll let Hotch know." He went to call.

In the meantime Penelope moved to Spencer's bed. "Hey." She said quietly. "I don't know if you can hear me, but you're safe. I'm sure it doesn't feel safe because you're in the hospital and all, but you are. I promise. And it's going to be okay." She rubbed his arm again and went to find Morgan.

The man lying on the bed didn't answer.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 04  
Day 08**

Unfortunately Hotch was sucked in to the high-level issues that always came up when you busted a sex trafficker with connections to DC high rollers, and you busted him red-handed along with his friends. The rest of the team decided to go through the evidence collected at the crime scene, to see if they could find anything that would lead them to the missing Joe. But they quickly ran into a problem. "They collected evidence room by room." JJ said. "I thought if we found the cell without drug paraphernalia we'd have the one Spence was in. But they only found one, and we were able to identify that as Petty Officer Johnson's cell."

"But Johnson said Reid was clean the whole time." Morgan replied. "This Joe person too."

"I know, but the evidence is telling us otherwise."

Morgan sighed. "Let's go through it one cell at a time." He said. "Maybe there's a pattern."

It only took forever. They were still going over crime scene photos and evidence logs when Penelope came back to the office. "Rossi is in with Reid." She said. "Anything?"

"No." JJ groaned. "Every cell has drugs, lots of drugs, all kinds of drugs. Why would Spence have drugs in his room? This makes no sense."

"If we knew what he was taking we'd know what room he was in." Morgan said. "If we knew what room he was in we'd know what he was taking."

Penelope looked over the pictures, pushing them around this way and that, until she spotted something. "Boxes 64 and 65." She said. "That was his room."

"Sixty-four and five?" JJ pulled that file. "That has the largest concentration."

"I know. Where are those boxes?"

Morgan pulled them out for her. From one box he pulled a bag of bottle of injectable drugs. "Baby girl, there are thirty two bottles here, all different kinds."

"Yeah, I know."

"Whoever was in this room had to be high as a kite."

"Maybe not. They're all empty."

"So whoever was in that room got really high over enough time to empty those bottles?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, but there are no needles." Penelope replied.

"So?"

"And half of them have their labels pulled off."

"Again, so?"

"So, there is also this." Penelope pulled on gloves, dug around in that box, and pulled out a piece of cardboard ripped from some kind of packing box. On the other side someone had scored off a grid, scoring in every other square to darken it.

A slow smile started growing on Morgan's face. "No way."

"Yes way." Penelope set the cardboard on the table, opened the bag of bottles and started setting up. In no time she had them arranged by color, the ones with labels on one side of the cardboard, the ones without on the other. "One chess set, MacGyvered out of empty bottles."

By now the others were laughing. "At least his mind was working in there." JJ said. She checked the list. "And that accounts for all of the drug paraphernalia in the room. If we assume they gathered the empties from other people to make the set then that room is clean. So let's look through these boxes for Joe."

"There isn't anything else in here." Morgan said. "Everything looks to be something standard that the Unsub provided, right down to the soap. The only unique thing in here is Reid's pants."

"No, there's something." JJ said as she leaned over to look in the box.

"No, there isn't."

"No, there is. I don't..." She leaned in closer and took a sniff.

"What is it?" Penelope asked.

"You can't smell that?"

"We're not pregnant, sweetie. May I remind you that you can smell a tuna fish sandwich two floors up."

"Please don't. Gloves." JJ put a pair on and opened the evidence bag containing a pair of Unsub issued pants. She held them up and shook them out, and with them the faintest trace of a scent. She patted them down, and then pulled something out of a pocket. It was a plain, white handkerchief, and with it came a whiff of rich perfume. "He can't hear, he can't see..."

"But he can still smell." Morgan opened a fresh bag for the scrap of cloth. "We should get this to the hospital, see what happens."

* * *

They got to the hospital, explained their theory to the doctor, who told them that it was worth a try.

In the hospital room JJ carefully opened the baggie and waved the handkerchief under Spencer's nose. "If we're right smelling this means you're safely back in your cell." She said. "And you are, safe that is, so wake up for us."

Spencer breathed in the rich perfume.

His eyes fluttered.

After a moment he looked up at her.

She beamed out a smile. "There we go. Welcome back to the land of the living Dr. Reid."

Spencer looked around at her, at Morgan and Penelope, at the room, confusion evident on his face. Then he tried to sit up, and stared at his hands. "Whoa whoa whoa." Morgan said as he caught his friend. "Don't get up. Don't get up. Can you hear me?"

Spencer nodded.

"You're not saying anything."

Spencer put his hand to his throat, made a coughing type gesture, and shook his head.

"You can't talk?" JJ asked.

Spencer shook his head.

"How many fingers?" Penelope asked. He lifted one covered hand to his face, gestured around his eyes. "Oh, right, no glasses. We can fix that though."

"I'll go get the doc." Morgan said.

In the meantime JJ and Penelope sat by the bed. "It's going to be okay, Spence." JJ said. "We raided the facility last night. Do you remember us talking with Petty Officer Johnson? Planning to come in?" He nodded, but there was still confusion in his eyes. "It's okay. We'll get you through this." Spencer looked around at the room, then nodded to the curtain between him and the other bed. "There's no one back there." She said, pulling back the curtain to reveal the empty bed. "Morgan slept there last night. It's just us. What's wrong?" She asked as longing and fear came into his eyes.

"He can't talk." Penelope said. She picked up a pencil before she realized. "He can't write either. Or type."

The two women looked at each other as they realized that their friend was still trapped inside his body. He was looking at the door, like he was waiting for someone or something. Probably scared still, JJ thought. "Don't worry about it." She said as she gently rubbed his uninjured shoulder. "It'll be okay."

But the look in Spencer's eyes said otherwise. He looked from one woman to the other, so very desperate for something, then back to the door.

"No, really." Penelope rubbed his shin through the blanket. "It's going to be okay. You're safe now. We've got this."

He looked at them for a long moment, longing turning to frustration and then to sadness.

"Just trust us Spence." JJ said. "It will be okay."

Spencer looked down at his hands, considered them a moment, and then fear, real fear came into his eyes.

"Spencer..."

He shook his head. This was not okay. Whatever he was feeling it was not okay at all.

"We'll take care of you. You'll be fine."

But he wasn't even listening anymore.

* * *

They ran into their first snag an hour later.

The nurses had shooed everyone from the BAU out of Spencer's room for a few. They needed to adjust a few things, they said. All routine. Wouldn't take long. The fear in his eyes was only growing worse, but no one could see a reason for it. He was safe in the hospital. He was getting the best care.

Ten minutes later the nurse came out of his room and asked for the doctor. "What's wrong?" Penelope asked. But she and Penelope didn't wait for an answer, they followed the nurse back in.

Once again Spencer was lying there, staring at nothing with glassy eyes. "He had another seizure." The nurse said.

"Oh damn it." JJ pulled on gloves and opened the evidence bag again. "Spence. Hey, Spence. Come back to us." She said as she waved the cloth under his nose. "You're okay."

He blinked a little more slowly this time, but once again he came around. He looked around the room, at her, and then rubbed at his eyes with his casted hands. "Don't do that." Penelope said, batting his hands away. "You'll hurt yourself."

He was obviously so very upset. They couldn't tell if he was scared or angry or what, but whatever it was it was real and big to him.

JJ went to the nurses' station. "He snapped out of it." She told them. "What happened?"

"I don't know." The nurse replied. "I was changing his catheter, cleaning some dressings and when I looked up he was back in a coma."

JJ sighed. "We need to figure out what's triggering this." She said. "Eventually we won't be able to pull him out of it again."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 05  
Day 08**

Of course it came up again. "What happened?" Morgan asked.

"They tried to get him into the shower." JJ said. "They said he grew increasingly agitated and then when they finally got him in there he seized again." She sighed. "At some point this is going to stop working. He's not going to trust it any more. He'll go up inside his head and not come out again."

"We have to figure out what's triggering it. You said shower, there was a shower running in the room where we found him."

"Yeah, but there wasn't when he had an episode earlier in the day. And neither case was violent."

"What were they doing earlier today?"

"Changing catheters and dressings."

"Yeah." Morgan headed into the hospital room. Spencer was sitting there, looking out at the setting sun. "Hey." Morgan said, tapping the bed to get Spencer's attention. "You've been kind of blacking out on us. They're saying it's like a seizure. Were you aware of that?"

Nod.

"The docs here said it was Conversion Disorder. Does that sound right to you?"

Nod.

"Do you know what's triggering it?"

Nod.

"Okay, brother to brother here. Is it when someone gets their hands down your pants?"

Spencer sighed. Turned deep red. And nodded.

Morgan groaned. "Okay, look. I've been there. I get it."

Spencer nodded. His expressions said he understood exactly what Morgan was saying. They were both survivors now.

"Okay, surely you've had someone in there before now. Why is it..." He stopped.

Spencer was slowly shaking his head.

"Oh man." Morgan landed in the chair beside the bed. "Do you have any idea how much therapy is in your future?"

Spencer nodded. He knew.

"Okay, I get it. I understand. But you're stuck in those things for the next two months. How are we going to do this?"

Spencer looked like he was thinking, or maybe remembering. He pointed at Morgan with his covered hand. "What?" Spencer pointed again. "No offence but I am not going to help you." Spencer gave a frustrated frown and shook his head. He pointed out the door and shook his head, then at Morgan and nodded. "Okay, hold on." Morgan went to the door. "Can I tell JJ and Garcia what's going on?"

Spencer looked resigned and nodded.

Morgan stuck his head out the door. "Who wants to help me play 20 questions?"

So the ladies trooped back in. "So far we have determined that he blacks out when someone gets their hands down his pants."

"Understandable." JJ said. "All things considered."

"Yeah, I can totally get that." Penelope added.

Spencer still looked a little embarrassed but relieved at their acceptance.

"He's got an idea but I can't figure it out." Morgan said.

"Okay, try us." JJ said.

Spencer pointed out the door and shook his head, then at Morgan and nodded.

"You want Morgan to help you?" Penelope asked

No, emphatically not.

"You want someone like Morgan to help you?"

That got a nod.

"There were both male and female Unsubs up there." JJ said. "Was the primary one involved female?"

Spencer took a deep breath and slowly nodded.

"Which is not at all a common offender in these cases which is why we said female nurses." She winced. "Sorry about that Spence."

Spencer nodded as if to say he understood.

"So you think you won't have a problem with a male nurse?"

Spencer considered and shrugged.

"Worth a try." Morgan said. "I'll go let them know."

* * *

Thirty minutes later the male aid came out. "We made it work." He said. "Barely. He was still terrified but at least he stayed with me."

"Short term that's dealt with then?" JJ asked.

"I don't know." The nurse replied. "I don't know if this will work for bathing. We're going to have to risk it and see."

"Great."

"I don't know how we're going to work that." Morgan said. "Yet. We will figure this out."

"You might want to talk to the doctor about anti-anxiety medication."

"He won't take them." JJ said.

"I don't know what to tell you then."

* * *

Penelope went in to check on Spencer. He was looking out the window, something sad and lonely on his face. "Hey." She said to get him to look around. "So the Unsub was a woman?"

Spencer nodded.

"That's part of what's making this so complicated and hard then?"

He looked so alone and so afraid. He nodded.

"Since I can't hold your hand." She curled her hand around his elbow. "We are going to work this out. Somehow. I promise. This is not going to ruin everything."

She could tell he didn't believe her.

* * *

 **Day 10**

With that issue out of the way Spencer was able to spend the night in the hospital and not black out again, a big step towards being released. The next morning they sedated him to run some tests on his throat. Now he was sleeping it off while the team heard from the doctor.

"Botox"

"Excuse me?" Dave asked.

"Botox." The doctor replied. "Low doses of botulism toxin can be injected directly into the vocal cords to treat disorders like spasmodic dysphonia or even full on vocal cord paralysis. It interrupts some of the nerve signals to weaken the chord, restoring some flexibility. Usually only one set of muscles, either the adductors or abductors, are injected at a time, depending on treatment. It appears that his vocal chords were injected with a very high dose, and all of the muscles were injected, preventing him from controlling the chords at all. He can think in words but they're not coming out."

"Can this be treated?"

"Bad news, good news, bad news. The bad news is that there is no botulisim antagonist. We can't give him anything to fix it right now. The good news is that it's not a permanent treatment; the effects will wear off on their own. The bad news is that takes about four months."

"So he's not going to be able to be debriefed or get any therapy for four months?" Morgan let out an annoyed sigh.

"Two months. Until the casts come off. Then he can write." JJ replied. "It's not like he'll forget."

"That still means he has to live with it that long."

"What about assistive technology?" Dave said.

"Everything beyond the most basic level requires some level of motor skills. With the damage to his hands he can't even poke at a tablet right now. They'll have some communication boards he can use in the care facility."

"Care facility?" Hotch asked.

"Yes. He can't do anything for himself until he gets those casts off, which will be at least two months and he'll be looking at several months of physical therapy after that. He's going to need round the clock care, but not at the hospital level, at this point there's nothing more we can do for him here. He just needs time to heal. There are several good nursing facilities in the area..."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"Would you excuse us for a moment." It wasn't a question. Hotch turned away from the doctor, bringing the team into a huddle. "I'm sure you see the problem."

"Yeah." Morgan replied. "Bennington. He's already down about something, putting him into an asylum with no way to communicate is just going to make it worse."

"He can come home with me." Dave said.

"He's going to need round the clock care." JJ pointed out.

"I'll get a service in. I have room for it. He can owe me research time later."

"We'll go to his place and pack for him." Morgan said.

"I'll set it up with the medical staff." Hotch replied.

* * *

It would be tomorrow before Spencer could be moved. In the meantime one of the therapists came around with some communication cards. "Hello Dr Reid!" She sang out when she came in. She introduced herself and pulled out the cards, laminated cardboard sheets about the size of a place mat with pictures on them. "Have you ever heard..." But she trailed off as Spencer was already intently sorting through them.

With the two fingertips he had to use he shuffled them until he got to one with the alphabet. Then he tapped the pencil and paper she'd brought in. "You want me to write something down?" He nodded. "All right."

TELLTEAMJOANNAMILLER

"Tell team Joanna Miller? Which team? I don't know what that means."

Spencer huffed his frustration.

TELLDAVEROSSIJOANNAMILLER

"Tell Dave Rossi Joanna Miller? All right, I can do that once we're done..."

Spencer swept all the cards off the table to the bed and motioned as if to say go now, and hurry. Hurry!

"Oh, um, all right." The therapist stepped out.

As she left Penelope and JJ were coming back. "Is everything all right?" JJ asked.

"I don't know." The therapist replied. "I was showing Dr. Reid how to use the communication cards. He spelled out a message and then became very agitated."

"What was the message?"

"Tell Dave Rossi Joanna Miller. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Joe." Penelope said. "Not Joseph? Joanna?"

"That would explain the perfume." JJ replied. "That handkerchief is hers."

"What's going on?" Morgan asked as he and Dave joined them

"Does the name Joanna Miller mean anything to you?" JJ asked Dave. "Apparently she was the Joe in with Spencer."

"Joanna Miller?" Dave went pale. He hurried into Spencer's room. "Joanna was in there with you?"

Spencer nodded a very emphatic yes.

"I thought she was still in England!"

Spencer shook a very emphatic no.

By now Penelope had her tablet out. "She's not on the victim list."

"He wouldn't make this mistake." Dave pulled his phone out.

Spencer thudded his hand on the bed to get their attention, then gestured to his throat as if to say she couldn't talk on the phone.

"Damn it." Dave looked at Morgan. "Come on, I know where she lives. If we need your help I'll call, Penelope. Don't worry." He said to Spencer. "We'll find her." He said as they headed out.

"My laptop will be waiting!" Penelope called after him. She turned to Spencer once they were gone just in time to see him fall back on the bed relief in his eyes. "Is this why you've been so upset? Because you didn't know if she made it out or what?"

Spencer nodded.

"Don't worry Spence." JJ sat by the bed, "We'll find her."

* * *

I know we'll find her, Spencer thought, now that the team is looking.

Assured that the FBI was on the case he settled back in his bed. For the past two days he'd been erring between frantic desperation and outright despair. Why wasn't Jo here? Was she still in the hands of an Unsub ? Had she turned away from him? Without any way to communicate there was no way to know. And the hospital setting was not helping one bit. Every part of him wanted out of here and looking for her.

His eyes drifted to the window. Come back to me Jo, he thought. Please.

Please, because we have been through so much already...

* * *

.

* * *

End of Part 1


	7. Chapter 6

**Part 2**

 **Chapter 06  
Day 01**

Spencer Reid woke up in a very strange place.

He was lying on a concrete floor, with a concrete ceiling above him. He was cold, likely from his body heat seeping through his light summer shirt into the floor below him. He also felt muzzy headed and a little sick. What happened?

He closed his eyes to make the world stop spinning.

He had gone to an NA meeting, he remembered that much. Not because he needed to, really, but his sponsor was going to be there and wanted some support. So he'd gone. Couldn't say it was a fabulous time, really, it was a meeting, but it was okay.

There had been this one guy he'd talked to right at the end. Someone new, someone who maybe wasn't quite ready to give it up. The guy had brought over some of the particularly bad coffee, said something about a fellow academic, talked with him for a bit about what happens if your colleagues find out, and walked out with him in the direction of his car.

Dear Dr. Reid. Congratulations. You got roofied.

Fuck.

Spencer listened carefully, then rolled his head to look around. From the view out the window he was in a high rise. The room was finished, not under construction, but not decorated at all. He was alone. Also, no sign of his bag.

His gun and credentials were in his bag.

Fuck again.

His phone, however, was in his pocket. Granted Penelope wasn't on tonight, but someone was. He could call 911 if nothing else.

When he moved his hands he found shackles on his wrists. Thick leather cuffs that were attached to a chain that ran up to a pulley hanging from the ceiling. Also, his pockets were empty.

All of a sudden a clanking started up. The chain started moving. It forced him to scramble to his feet and then stand there with his arms stretched above his head while he almost stood on his toes. He wavered slightly, almost glad he could cling to the chain as the last of the drug passed out of his system.

Okay, he thought, think. Breathe. Your best weapon is a profile, start making one.

He felt the change of pressure as a door opened, and then he heard footsteps. Two men walked in. The one in front was younger. His hair was cut to flatter. He wore a blue suit of an expensive material and impeccable tailoring; the kind of shoes Rossi wore sometimes, a bright yellow tie, and an understated yet quite real watch. His body language spoke of strength and confidence, and he walked with a slight swagger. His smile was pleased.

The one slightly behind was older. His hair was balding but very tidy. He wore a black suit of expensive fabric but not as carefully tailored. His shoes were thickly soled with non-slip rubber. His tie was black as well. And while he walked with confidence it was deferential confidence. He walked with precision and did not smile.

Okay, Blue was the boss, Black was the help. Likely something along the lines of a butler. How bad could it be? No, there was a third man, someone lurking back in the shadows. Spencer only got that much before Black stepped behind him and Blue in front of him. "Do you know what a tup is?" Blue asked in a British accent.

Spencer cleared his throat slightly. "Yes, a tup is..."

He got that far before Blue's hand swung, catching him across the face in a slap that sent his head rocking back. Burning pain flared across his cheek. "Do you know what a tup is?" Blue asked again.

Spencer hesitated. When he spoke it was quietly, and with more deference. "A tup is..."

Again Blue's hand flew. Spencer's head rocked in the other direction. The pain bloomed on the other side of his jaw. "Do you know what a tup is?!" Blue demanded again. Spencer wasn't certain what to say so he just nodded his head. A tup, at least in the UK, was a male lamb.

Blue smiled. "Thought a professor at Georgetown would be a fast learner. You are a tup. You are _livestock_. And from now on should you say another word to anyone but your farmhand I will personally see that you go from ram to weather. Do you understand?"

Spencer nodded hesitantly. That didn't make much sense. A ram was an adult male sheep, the fully grown version of a tup. A wether was the same only neutered.

Blue stepped forward, took a firm grasp of Spencer's crotch and squeezed. The pain made Spencer's eyes prickle. "Do you understand?!"

Ah, right. Spencer nodded more firmly. Now he understood. He was being objectified. The image of livestock, the threat of gelding, it was all meant to dehumanize and instill fear. It wasn't working but Spencer did understand. If he spoke he'd be the one who was neutered. Good reason to keep his mouth shut.

"Very good Tup." Blue stepped back. "Harold." It was a command to the man behind him.

Black had to be Harold. Spencer felt a hand at his collar, the brush of something metallic, and then a cold draft on his skin. He stayed still as he felt his shirt being cut away. Within moments he was going to be more naked than he ever liked, exposed and helpless. The sensation caused actual fear to start twisting in his insides. He had to focus, to ignore the brushes of contact as his shirt was peeled away.

"So, Tup." Blue continued. "You're an adjutant professor, part time, at Georgetown. You are also a part-time _manny_." He said the word with derision. "You're not scheduled to teach again until the fall term starts. You don't have any family or even close friends."

That wasn't true. He had the team. They were his family. In a situation like this they were completely reliable. They would get him out of this.

Spencer felt hands on his feet, and then Harlod had cut the laces on his shoes and was pulling them off with his socks. Blue snorted at his mismatched socks. "And, of course, you're a _junkie,_ not the most reliable of sorts. Yes, we've been watching you for a few weeks." He nodded at the look on Spencer's face. "I don't think anyone is going to miss you for quite some time."

Spencer blinked. Whoever these people were they must have latched on to him at the beginning of the summer when they all went on stand-down. They hadn't realized he was an agent. Outstanding, they would not have taken the kind of countermeasures needed to hide an agent. That would make it easier for the team to track him.

On the other hand, the team wasn't due back for two weeks. They were right, at least in the short term no one was going to be looking for him. He was going to have to survive for a while here. Which was becoming more and more of an uncomfortable thought as Harold was taking off his belt and going to work on his fly. He tried to ignore that but it wasn't as simple as that. He didn't want anyone to look at him. But that choice was being taken away.

"So with escape out of the question the best way to survive is to play by the rules." Blue was saying. "Do not speak. Do not fight. Do what the humans around you tell you to do, including the farmhands and other help. Make me money. Do that and you'll live a long and happy life. Don't and you'll be part of the foundation on my father's next building. Do we have an understanding?"

Spencer nodded. Sit tight and pacify the Unsub, he thought. Okay, cavalry, I can hold out until you get here. Then Harold pushed his pants and boxers down to his ankles, leaving him naked in this cold, empty room. He'd never been truly naked in front of anyone since high school. He felt his cheeks burning, wanted to twist to hide himself but he didn't dare move.

Help, he thought.

"Good!" Blue was all smiles. "Gloves." He held out a hand and Harold put a pair of blue nitrile gloves into them. Blue pulled them on and took hold of Spencer's penis.

Help.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 07  
Day 01**

"Good!" Blue was all smiles. "Gloves." He held out a hand and Harold put a pair of blue nitrile gloves into them. Blue pulled them on and took hold of Spencer's penis.

Help

Not that

Please not that.

Without thinking Spencer pulled away.

Without a word Blue sank his fist into Spencer's stomach.

Spencer doubled over as best he could, choking and trying to catch his breath as the pain radiated. He felt a hand in his hair, likely Harold, and then a painful tug as he was pulled upright.

This was going to happen. There was no way to stop it.

Blue took hold of Spencer's penis again. The world started going gray around the edges. "Uncut." He said before he rolled back the foreskin. Spencer felt his face burning as his body started reacting without him. "No piercings." He tugged it out away from Spencer's body. "Longer than average. Slender girth." He let go, reached lower, rolled Spencer's testicles around in his scrotum. That felt so _strange_. "Smaller than average balls, but no abnormally so."

Spencer kept his eyes locked on the knot in Blue's tie and forced himself to focus. He no longer even wanted to look at the Unsub's face. Humiliation curled in his chest, almost choking him. Like most men he had once been concerned with his development down there. He was within average parameters, thank you, and had no reason to be concerned at all. However unlike most men his age he had never been touched by someone else down there. The sensation was, given the setting, uncomfortable in the extreme. He realized he was glad the Unsub wasn't female, somehow that would have been worse. So very much worse.

"Larger than expected nips and naturally slightly puffy." Blue squeezed Spencer's nipples briefly, causing them to harden, making him flush again. "Height, 193 centimeters, weight 70 kilograms, build slight. Regular swimmer." Blue stepped away as Harold stepped out and took several pictures.

Spencer didn't look at the camera. Hopefully they were going to put those on the net, some kind of sale. Hopefully one Andi and her team were tracking. That was going to be all kinds of embarrassing, no clue how he was going to explain, but better to be home and embarrassed than here.

When Blue stepped around behind him Spencer knew what was coming. Still, he couldn't help but flinch a little as his buttocks were pulled apart. He felt something cold and wet and then the pressure of a slight probing. "Tight." Blue pressed harder. Spencer's natural reaction was to tighten up. A harder push hurt enough to make his muscles clamp down. "Likely never penetrated." He wiggled his fingers a little with a chuckle, and Spencer thought his shame complete.

Thankfully Blue stopped, stepped around and pulled off his gloves before taking Spencer by the jaw. "And from the way he's blushing I'd say virginal. Excellent, a cherry like that is going to be worth quite a penny. Yes." He slowly smiled at the expression on Spencer's face. "We know things. Darius, go fetch the Bride of Frankenstein. I doubt this one is straight but if he is she won't tempt him."

"Yes, boss." Said a deep, melodious voice from the shadows. There were heavy, booted footsteps and Spencer felt the door open and close again.

Spencer wanted to close his eyes and shrink away. He'd been waiting, is all. Waiting for someone who could love and accept the biggest nerd on the planet. Waiting for someone who actually thought his scrawny, pale body was at least acceptable if not attractive. Waiting for someone who would love him forever and understand what he would give in return. Maeve had understood, she had loved gently and with grace and strength and control, something he had come to crave. It was going to be something wonderful. But then it wasn't.

And now it would never be.

Harold stepped around to take a few more pictures. "No tattoos. No modifications." Blue checked the insides of his elbows. "Some track marks inside the elbows. Don't know how you managed to hit them both evenly. Some scarring around the left knee. Some on the right bicep. Some on the back of the left thigh. Some on the neck. Nothing truly marring." He wrapped his hands around Spencer's jaw again, putting painful pressure on the hinge joint until Spencer couldn't keep his mouth closed any more. "Teeth in excellent condition. Hair light brown and wavy, eyes hazel, requires glasses. That should do it."

"Yes, sir." It was the only think Harold had said this entire time. Harold bent and wrapped two cuffs around Spencer's ankles, locking them with a click. They were snug, heavier than he expected, and he felt metal. He looked down and saw boxes.

"Shock cuffs." Blue said. "They act like tasers if you attempt to go below this floor. That includes the elevator shafts and the HVAC system, so don't go acting like you're in a movie. All that will get you is an unmarked grave. That will be all Harold."

"Yes, sir." With a slight nod Harold turned and left.

On his way out he let two more people in.

The first man was huge. Dark skinned, long dreadlocks, practical clothes of the type Derek wore. Likely he was the source of the voice. He had some things hanging from his belt that Spencer didn't want to look at too closely. And he was shoving a woman in front of him.

She was tall, elegant, surprisingly muscular in a grey tank and black pants. Her body language radiated hate and anger, lots of anger.

And he knew her.

"Here you go boss." The man said. His accent was from a Caribbean island, but Spencer couldn't quite make which one. He shoved the woman so hard she fell to her knees in front of them.

Blue smiled and started walking around her. "Well, Frankie, looks like I found a use for you after all. You finally have an animal of your own to look after. We're calling him Tup. Now remember, if he doesn't go along with the desires of my guests I'll have both of his hands broken to increase your workload. The second time I break his legs and you can drag him around like a bag of grain. The third I give up on a bad lot of livestock and break both your necks." Blue stood there as the larger man stepped behind her and wrapped an enormous hand around her throat. It was a very direct threat. "Do you understand me?" Blue asked.

The woman didn't move, but Spencer saw fury light her eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now take him back to your room and teach him how to behave. He likes opiates, there's a fresh stock in the cafeteria if you need keep him quiet. I expect his cherry will sell quickly so do not dawdle. Remember, _he's yours now_." Oh there was meaning in those words. Blue turned away but then turned back and pulled something from his pocket. "Oh, and adjust the attitude." He squeezed whatever it was.

The woman let out a screech and fell to the ground.

"Ta." With that Blue was gone.

Darius laughed as he took some keys off his belt and threw them at her. "Get him moving girl." He said. "Unless you want me to do it for you."

"Fuck you." She replied with a groan as she staggered to her feet and reached down to rub at her ankles.

"No thanks. I don't want to puke." Darius was laughing as he moved to the shadows.

The woman picked up the items on the ground and moved behind Spencer. He heard a clanking and the tension on his arms was eased. Once she could reach she removed his cuffed hands from the chain and re-attached them behind him. "You're going to be okay." She said very quietly. "We're going to get through this." Once his hands were cuffed she moved around and, thank heaven, pulled up his pants and did up his fly. As she did she looked up at him, rich brown eyes filled with care and compassion and confidence. Her eyes were nearly level with his. "Don't fight me Spencer, all right? Don't say anything and don't look at their faces. Just keep your head down for now."

She did remember him. What's going on, he wanted to ask, I thought you were in Europe for another month. But he said nothing; he trusted her read on the situation. So he kept his head down as bidden.

She led him deeper into the building.

* * *

.

* * *

Casting notes: Alexandra Shipp as Joanna Miller


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 08  
Day 01**

It was a big place.

It was a maze of hallways in here. They hadn't bothered with paint, of course, or carpeting, so sounds carried through the walls. Spencer heard a woman weeping somewhere. The sound of male laughter. The sound of someone retching. A phone alert behind him.

Thankfully it all smelled like strong disinfectant. Small blessings.

She led him down one hall, went to turn a corner. "Hey Frankie." Darius said behind them. "Boss wants him cleaned up and out. Teach him what to do with that little mouth. Unless you want me to do it." It sounded like the larger man would enjoy that a lot.

"I got it." His escort said.

"You sure. Don't think you're his type." Spencer could hear the leer in the other man's voice.

"I said I got it!" She snapped back. She tugged Spencer around the corner as Darius laughed.

They kept moving. At one point she moved him over to let another couple go by. Male, from the look of the legs, in soft pants and flip flops, leading a pair of legs wearing the same cuffs he was, otherwise bare. Spencer dared to peek up at the woman. She was young, naked, slender, pale and dark haired with the kind of figure most enjoyed. Her body wore multiple bruises and abrasions and thick rings in her nipples. Her wrists were behind her, likely like his. She was being led by a chain that was attached to something between her legs. Her eyes were heavy, likely from intoxication of one kind or another.

"Don't look up." His escort hissed as she squeezed his arm.

He looked down again.

She led him down another hall and then another. At no point had he seen an exit. Eventually they came to a door which she unlocked with a ring of keys on her belt. Then she pushed him through.

It was a small, plain room. Concrete, like the rest of this cold place. A thick pad on the floor served as a bed, one tightly made. Plastic milk crates in the corner held tidy belongings. A slender window showed the DC skyline. Off to one side was a door that looked to lead into a bathroom. He heard the door close behind them. "Spencer. My god." She said as she took the cuffs off and pulled him into her arms. "Please tell me you're here for work. The cavalry is going to ride in any moment."

"Joanna." He held her close. He hadn't seen her in years. "Unfortunately no. I was kidnapped last night."

"Damn it." She sighed out her frustration as she pulled away, moved around him to the baskets and pulled something out that she threw at him. "I don't know if it'll fit, but it's worth a try. My aunt told me how shy you are."

It was a grey shirt like hers. Didn't quite fit but it was better than nothing. He felt himself turning red again at her comment. Apparently he had been _discussed_. "Thank you. Do I get my own?"

"I don't know yet. You only get to wear what They let you out there. The other three men wear shorts at least, so I guess eventually. Keep those for now; you can wear them in here if you want." She turned over an empty milk crate and used it as a chair, turned over another for him. "So was he right about the drugs? You really don't want to detox here."

He'd take her up on the offer of a chair in a moment. Right now he wanted to check out the room. And he didn't want her to see him turn red, of all the people he wanted to tell in his own time. "An Unsub got me hooked. But I've been clean for five years and seven months." He said as he started looking for cameras or microphones. "I'm not going to break that now."

"That's something to be proud of." She replied. "If you change your mind let me know. Believe me; I won't hold it against you. Not in this hell."

Nothing in the electrical plug from what he could tell. Granted he'd have to get the cover off to be sure. Nothing in the air vent either. He went to check the small bathroom. "Tell me what happened. I thought you were still at Oxford. How did you get here?"

She smiled a little. "I got the position at Georgetown."

"Your Aunt told me. That's great!"

"I wanted to surprise my family. They're in Africa right now, so I moved back here on my own. These bastards jumped me in a parking garage. There aren't any cameras in here. Not that they wouldn't want to watch you but no one wants to look at me. What happens if you don't show up for work?"

The searched finally took him to the window. He looked at the building across the street and swallowed twice. This Unsub was arrogant and confident, possibly with some reason. Spencer sighed. "That's the problem. My team has two agents out on maternity leave, one on a pre-scheduled vacation for a book tour and my boss needed some time off after a bad case. We've been on stand down for a month now." He explained. "They probably won't even know I'm missing for another two weeks."

"Crap." She turned to look out the window, the wheels turning in her head. "I have some friends who might have noticed but it's a long shot. But they'll look for you?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. They're my family, I have every faith. The problem is that I was roofied at an NA meeting, because of that it's going to take some time for them to track me."

"But they will. So we just have to survive until they get here."

"Yeah." Spencer looked out the window. He could see the Hoover building, sure safe harbor, just across the away. I want to go home, he thought. I want my family. Help. He mentally crossed his fingers. "Will you help me?"

A smile slowly crossed her face. In that moment she was more than pretty, she was beautiful. "Of course I will. We are going to walk out of here. You're mine now bucko."

"Yours?" Spencer asked. He mentally crossed his fingers. "Taking after your aunt?"

Joanna blushed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Just forget I did."

"I would but any information might help here. What did you mean?"

She was quiet a moment, her eyes searching his. "Did you ever go to this bookstore on Connecticut? Same building as the Running Dog Tavern?"

Spencer didn't even have to think hard. "Yeah."

"So did everyone else. We all shopped there."

Spencer felt his stomach flop and drop. He remembered that shop, quite well. Maeve had told him about it, recommended it strongly.

The shop she was talking about sold items relating to BDSM practices.

"I bought books there." He said. Nothing stranger or kinkier. "Just books."

"Paul thinks the Boss here owns it. When he sees someone who would fit here he goes after them."

"Very likely." Like most victims pools everyone crossed paths with the Unsub somehow. It fit. And eventually the team would figure that out which meant they would know he went to that shop. Maybe he could tell them it was research for his next paper. "That will make it easier for them to find us though. So tell me more about this place." Spencer said. "Any detail could help."

Joanna sighed. "It's owned by this guy we know of as The Boss. It's set up like in all the fantasy books, a private little whorehouse for his rich buddies. Only they don't know that we're here against our will. Or they don't care. Since you're making him money you can't go anywhere without an escort and cuffs. I can only go on this floor and the one above it. If we try to go downstairs these go off." She lifted the hem of her pants and revealed a thick nylon cuff with a square box on it.

The square had a light. The skin under it looked irritated. He had the same on his ankles. "Electric shock device?" He asked.

"Yeah." She revealed the one on her other ankle. "They'll knock you out cold to give Darius and his crew time to get there."

Darius. The big one from the shadows. He was trouble. "What about Darius' phone?"

"Most tempting thing up here. I'll keep trying to get to it."

"Can we get to the roof?"

"I don't know, why?"

Spencer pointed out the window. "See the building across the street?"

"Yeah?"

"That's the J. Edgar Hoover building. FBI headquarters."

Joanna's head whipped around. "You're kidding."

"No. My office isn't in that building but I can see a friend's from here. If we could toss a message on the roof it might be a chance."

"I'll ask Paul about it."

"Who is Paul? His name's come up a few times."

"He's the medic around here."

Huh? "They have more than one doctor up here?"

"Not deliberately. Let me go see if he's free." She rose and headed for the door.

While she was gone Spencer turned and looked at the building just across the way. It felt like he could step out to safety. I don't want to do this, he thought. I want to save that for someone special. Hell, I was even nervous about sharing with Maeve. I wasn't certain about that. I didn't realize how precious that choice is. You would think after all this time as a profiler I would have figured that out before now.

The bitterness of regret, he thought. I just wish I had a choice.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 09  
Day 01**

A couple of minutes later the door opened. A large, muscular man came in with Joanna hot on his heels. "FBI?" He asked. "Seriously?"

"I don't think they know." Spencer replied. "My team has been on stand down for a month. We're not under any sort of security clearance but we tend to keep a low profile when we're off the clock."

"Your team?"

"Behavioral Analysis. We target serial offenders. Oh, um, SSA Dr. Spencer Reid." Normally he wouldn't, but in this situation? He offered his hand.

"Petty Officer Paul Johnson, 2nd Recon, USMC." He accepted the handshake.

"Petty Officer. You're a corpsman?"

"Yeah."

"Second Recon." They all sat on overturned crates by the windows. "Were you in Afghanistan?"

"Yeah."

"Are you familiar with Operation Blackbird?"

Paul looked surprised. "Yeah, my unit worked that. How did you know about it?"

"My partner Jennifer Jareau, JJ, was assigned to the CIA team that was doing interrogations. She had a miscarriage after her convoy was attacked."

"I remember her. How is she doing?"

"Great. Working on my next godson."

"Good to know." Paul nodded. "Okay, you're legit. How did you get caught up in this?"

"I went to that shop to find a book I was looking for. I was roofied in an NA meeting. I encountered it on the job; I've been clean over five years."

"Good. Try to keep it that way. Stay out of the cafeteria, the bossman here doesn't care if his livestock are high; he has more drugs in there than I saw in some hospitals. I've been trying to help people maintain their frame but that is a lot of temptation for an easy way out."

"How did you end up here?"

"I went in that shop with some guys from my unit. One of them was getting married, we were in town for the wedding, decided to do a bachelor party, went to get some gag gifts. Three guys jumped me in the hotel garage."

Spencer was picking over information. "They grabbed me out of a parking lot as well. That means they have a pattern, that will make them easier to find. You said maintain their frame? SERE training?"

"Yeah. They do that for the FBI?"

"No, but my unit helped write some of the training materials."

"Huh." Paul was picking over information too. "That makes three of us that have our heads on straight."

Spencer looked at Joanna. "You have SERE training?"

"Kind of. That's where I got some of the ideas for my research. I spent a lot of time in the hospital when I was younger. My Aunt used those techniques to help me get through it. One thing lead to another."

"A lot of time in the hospital?" Spencer asked.

"I'm okay now." She lifted them hem of her shirt to reveal extensive scars. "You asked why they call me Frankie."

"I had no idea."

"It's not exactly discussion for polite company."

"If the three of us work together we might just survive and stay clean and sane until we get rescued." Paul said. "Will your people look for you?"

"Knowing my team I'd estimate three weeks to a rescue." Spencer replied.

"We can make that work."

"Out before start of Fall term." Joanna managed a smile. "My students will be so disappointed."

"I'll guest lecture. Give them something to look forward to." Spencer replied.

"That might help."

"Okay. What do I need to know? Start with the people, that's more my field."

"This place is run like a prison in a lot of ways. The head guard's name is Darius." Paul said. "His crew is the rest of the guards. They run the kitchen and the storeroom and control anything that could be used as a weapon, cleaning chemicals, the drug supply, that kind of thing. They're completely fucking sadistic. Any excuse will turn them on you. Our goal is to leave them alone with their kush as much as possible."

"What about Darius' phone?"

Paul shook his head. "It's always in his pocket. I have yet to see it anywhere else."

"And I always have to go out with cuffs on?"

"Yeah. I think it's supposed to encourage a mental breakdown."

"It also facilitates attachment with the trustees." Joanna said. She met Spencer's eyes when she said it.

"I wouldn't know about that." Paul replied. "The rest of us are prisoners here. Only some of us are what we're been calling trustees. Apparently prisons have them as well. We get to do the scut work, cleaning up, making sure the real victims are trained and presented the way the rich fuckers want them, tending their injuries after, and so on. I think I'm the only one here who doesn't have experience with kinky stuff."

"The trustees are all tops." Joanna said.

"I've researched the life style." Spencer nodded. "That means I'm not going to have a chance to pick a pocket. So they were kidnapped as well?"

"Yeah, chosen for their skills, not their looks." Joanna said.

"I can't keep them from getting high." Paul said, his frustration evident. "I mean, I can see the ones who have to go upstairs and get messed with, but I can't keep the others away from it either. Anyway, eventually they fuck up and disappear. Usually by trying to attack Darius and his crew."

"I'll try to explain it later. The ones who go upstairs?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah. There are about twenty up here, mostly women, chosen for their looks. They're the ones the rich fuckers want to play with. Any kink, any fetish, no limits. All to the highest bidder for the night. When they're too broken to play with they disappear too."

"Great." Human trafficking for sex. Spencer felt a knot forming in his gut. He'd known this on one level but hearing it made it real. "So why am I here?"

Joanna looked at him for a long moment. "You really need to look in a mirror."

Hardly. But apparently he'd caught someone's eye. "Why are you here?" She was elegant, female had a clear interest in BDSM. She should be their ideal victim but he wanted to confirm that.

"Same reason. Except when they cut my clothes off they found something they couldn't sell. I couldn't be what they wanted so they decided to make me a trustee to not lose out on the investment of making me disappear. I went along with it because it's better than dying, at least at the moment. And, you know, taking after my aunt." She shrugged but did not look away.

Spencer ignored the heat in his cheeks. "And you?" He asked Paul.

"They needed a medic. No one has died of their injuries on my watch, least not so far. I just can't keep them away from the junk."

"I don't think we can help that. But we'll keep trying to get a message out, or find a way."

"Amen to that. It's up to the three of us now."

Spencer nodded with them. They'd find a way.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10  
Day 01**

Eventually Paul had to go back to making his rounds, his words. And Joanna had to take Spencer for grooming.

Another walk down the cold hallways.

At one point they stopped at a door. "Kneel." She said quietly. Spencer dropped to his knees and kept his eyes on the bottom of the door as she knocked.

"What?" Asked a cranky male voice.

"Supplies." The door opened, revealing pants over thick boots. "Two packs male shorts, small. One pack male shirts, small extra long."

"Why does he needs shirts?" The voice asked.

"Because I asked nicely. One toiletry kit, one cleaning kit, one grooming kit." She took the items and led him down the hall.

Eventually they got to a room where she could lock the door behind them. "What's this place?" Spencer asked.

"Grooming room." Joanna said. It was a larger room, with actual linoleum on the floor, counters and cupboards around the perimeter and a large medical table in the center. "We need to get you cleaned up for the bastards upstairs. Start with a shower in there." She nodded to another door. "Just leave your clothes out here, there's no good place for them in there."

Just leave your clothes. Just leave your clothes. Spencer stopped dead as he hit an internal roadblock. "I...I can't."

She must have heard the note in his voice because she stopped what she was doing and came over. "You can't?"

"I can't. I just...I've never done anything. With anyone. My girlfriend and I were pretty much all online..." Which wasn't exactly true but was close enough and easier than trying to explain the charm of letters. "And what he did was the first time..."

"Which is completely legitimate in the lifestyle." She replied, instantly accepting his relationship with Maeve. But that didn't help in the moment. "As is waiting. I assume buying books means research. May I touch you?"

So far she had only touched his elbow, and then only when needed. "Of course." She placed a hand on his back, rubbed gently. It was warm and comforting, felt so good it ached. "Not research." He said quietly. "Not like that." He already knew what he was at heart, he was trying to learn what comes next.

Her hand slowed a moment, but did not move away. "Ah. I understand. I'm sorry. I wish I could make all this go away."

"I know."

"But right now I need to keep you safe. And that means doing what they want. You said it yourself, pacify the Unsub."

"I know."

"And they want you hairless below the eyes. And shaving will not do."

Wait. "You mean?"

"Have you ever had anything waxed?"

Oh god. Oh god. "No."

"I'm sorry. We'll take it really slow. There are towels in there, okay?"

This was not going to go away. But better than the guards, right? He knew she was trustworthy, was safe. Deep breath. "Okay."

Okay.

* * *

Shower done, Spencer came out with just a towel draped around his hips, felt his cheeks starting to burn as he stretched out face up on the table. He draped the towel strategically but he still felt far too exposed. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of." Joanna said with a small smile.

"That's, um, not what I've been told in the past."

"Well they were wrong." She sighed a little as she rubbed a little baby powder over his chest. "I know, it's hard. Just remember there are lots of things no one here has to see."

"Like what?"

"No one has to hear you laugh. No one has to see you smile. No one has to see what your face looks like when you see the person you love. You said you have a girlfriend out there."

"Had. She died."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Anyone else special out there?"

"Um, I don't...yeah. My godson, Henry."

Joanna reached up and closed his eyes. "See. Don't let them see your face like that. That belongs to you."

"Good point." He flinched a little as she spread something warm and thick on his chest. He wasn't particularly rug-like, he knew that, but he was an adult male and it showed. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately. Not masochistic I take it?"

"No. Not at all." He'd never managed to eroticize pain and he had no desire to try. "Um, Maeve was more into the sensual side of things."

"Ah. Well, that makes two of us." She patted some kind of cloth over his chest, sticking it to the goop. "There are handles on the edge of the table. Find them?" He felt the cool metal and grabbed on. "Good. Deep breath in and..."

She ripped the cloth off on the exhale.

He let out a yowl at the sudden burning pain.

"Good." She held up the cloth, revealing the hair stuck to it. "Got it all in one pull."

"Damn." He looked down and saw that his skin was still unbroken, if now turning pink. "Is that it?"

"Not even close."

* * *

Face. Arms. All of it borderline intimate, at least from his point of view, but not so much as to make him truly uncomfortable. "You never told me why you were in that store." Spencer said.

Joanna blushed a little as she worked, but she chuckled. "I was looking for something to wear to a party."

"You were buying something to wear to a party there?"

"A party at the Health and Amusement Club."

"Really?" That was the biggest BDSM club in DC. Maeve had said she wanted to take him there. He'd been entirely uncertain about that. "I thought they only allowed male members."

"They do. Some friends were taking me. I've never been to a club before, I was curious." She said that to the reaction on his face. "Gay friends. I wasn't going with anyone in particular. I haven't found anyone yet. The right anyone yet."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Breathe in...

"Ow."

"Sorry. Yeah. I'm...I'm not into anyone substantially older than I am, for one thing, which eliminates a lot of the guys out there. And I'm not a sadist, I'm not into being anyone's Mommy and I'm not the Divine Bitch Goddess type. I'm not into humiliation at all."

Uhh. "So why are you even involved with this?"

"Other than family tradition?" She laughed a little; it was a joke after all. Then she went quiet. "You're familiar with other SERE techniques? The idea of focusing on something you want in the future, in great detail?"

"Yeah. It's a method of re-establishing control when you're physical world is no longer in your control. POW's have spoken of building clocks, restoring cars, even creating their dream houses in great detail. The focus helps take one's mind off current circumstances and increases psychological resilience. Ow."

"Sorry. After the accident I spent months at a time in the hospital, having everything fixed and rebuilt. I didn't have any control over my life or my body then. My aunt told me about that technique. I kind of built a life for myself in my head. You know, where I would live, what I would do, in great detail. It helped."

"Ow."

"Sorry. When it was all over I started creating that for myself, you know, starting with school. Now I want my house just so, my life just so. It's made me rather a demanding perfectionist at times. Like my aunt."

He managed a smile. "I wouldn't say that."

"You wouldn't?"

"Not at all. I know your aunt and uncle. I always appreciated their lifestyle, including the perfectionist part."

"Really?"

"And how they managed to stay so close. She said this was a big part of that."

"Meaning..." Joanna held his eyes a long moment.

Spencer didn't look away.

He watched her turn full on red in the cheeks. "Right. Legs."

* * *

Eventually she'd done everything she could without moving that towel. "Maybe we could just move a little at a time?" Spencer asked. Joanna stopped, considered the situation, and slowly but surely started to smile. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I just pictured a tent pole with a washcloth wrapped around it." She gave it up and started chuckling.

It took a moment but then Spencer pictured himself with said cloth wrapped just around his erection, the last pointless vestige of modesty, and broke out belly laughing.

Nothing like a shared laugh to release tension.

Of course it didn't last, but it helped. "So why are you so shy anyway?" She asked.

Oh hell. "When I was in high school the football team tricked me into going out on the field. They tied me to the goalpost and pulled my clothes off in front of the whole school. One of the girls took the opportunity to play with me. I was just starting puberty and..."

"I can imagine. And no one did anything?"

"They laughed. I was so embarrassed I blacked out or something. I've always been afraid people would laugh since. I get teased a lot for how I look, still."

"That's horrible. I would never laugh at anyone's body."

She was completely honest, utterly sincere. And for some reason he couldn't put a finger on he found that he trusted her. So he pulled the towel away.

He knew what she would find. He was built there pretty much the same way he was built everywhere. Kind of long, quite slender, fine featured. The standard nest of curls notable only because they weren't any darker than the ones on his head, a slightly rare variation. He'd never seen anything clinically abnormal but apparently his appearance disgusted women.

She did not laugh. She did not wince. She did not look away in disgust even though his entire body was laid out before her. "Clippers first." Was all she said.

Really? That was it? "That bad?"

She turned from her work station to stand next to the table. "Do you really want me to pay you compliments in this situation?"

"I..."

"Because I honestly could right now."

"Well..."

"And you look like you've been working on yourself, so in my opinion you certainly deserve them."

"I look like?"

"Yeah. You're starting to cut some nice lines here." She traces one of the lines on his stomach.

Spencer lifted up and looked down at himself. "Oh." Her touch lingered. He looked up and saw this look on her face that made his stomach flop. "Good to know."

"So there you are. No, you are in no way unpleasant to look at." She turned to find her clippers. "In fact if I had any idea of your interests I probably would have asked you over for tea on my last visit back."

"Really?" She was about his age, he knew, and highly intelligent and he already adored her family. Why hadn't he thought of it? He was thinking of it now.

She gave him that smile, that wonderful, glorious smile all the women in her family shared. "Absolutely."

Great, now she did have a tent pole to deal with.

Back to the task at hand. "I'm trying to be as minimally invasive as possible. Could you move yourself over please?"

He blushed again and pulled his penis over and out of her way.

"Thanks."


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11  
Day 01**

"Done." Joanna said at last.

"Thank god." Spencer pulled the towel over again.

"Go wash up again. Cooler water this time. There's some oil over here to help get the wax off."

"All right." He was keeping the towel, thanks. But one thing. "Um, could you turn around, please?"

"Sure." She carefully turned her back as she cleaned up.

Spencer moved the towel so he could have a look in a mirror on the wall. Yep, all of it gone, including that little nest. He'd always been slender, even scrawny, but with no muscle mass to speak of, so he managed to have both a 30 inch waist and a bit of pudge around his naval. He had been working on it, swimming when he could and doing calisthenics at home and in hotel rooms across the country, if only to wipe a waver or two off his file. But he always wore gym clothes that covered everything, even a shirt when he swam, and never looked in a mirror. Now he was more than a little shocked to see a fit, conventionally attractive man looking back at him. He wasn't Morgan, but he would certainly do. "You know, I honestly had no idea that I was doing this well."

"It's been working for you."

"I've actually gained a little weight over the past few years."

"Likely all of it in muscle."

"Yeah." He wrapped the towel around his hips. "From the language you use I assume you work out? Well, I mean before this..."

"Yeah, I did." She walked over and lifted her shirt hem to just below her breasts. She had about half a six pack going, the rest was under the scar tissue that went from her right waist to her left upper thigh. "Unfortunately after being here for six weeks I've lost quite a few."

He normally wouldn't ask, it was kind of personal, but after what they had already been through today what was a little more personal? "What happened?"

"Car accident when I was eight. My Mom didn't make it. Dad died in the line of duty the year before. Momma's family didn't want me and Grandpa and Uncle Scott didn't think they could raise me so they sent me to my Aunt and Uncle. They thought Uncle Jim would be a better guardian, all things considered."

"I'm so sorry. You're lucky you survived that."

"Yeah. Most of these are surgical scars from the repairs they had to do after. I've had some of them treated over the years but I'd like to do more."

"You shouldn't have to. Scars show where you survived."

"I guess. These fuckheads say I look like a monster. I am not complaining about that."

"I wouldn't." Insults were better than whatever was going to happen. "I don't think you look like a monster. The opposite in fact." He thought she was beautiful.

She turned a bit pink. "Aww, thank you. Anyway, after it was all over I became kind of a gym rat. My therapist thought it was a way of re-establishing control over my body. I couldn't disagree there. What about you?"

"I got tired of being laughed at." All of a sudden a wave of fear passed over him. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I wonder what it will take to re-establish control after this." He said

"I don't know. But whatever it is, I'll..." She stopped, caught herself, took her hand away and turned to go back to cleaning.

"You'll what?"

"Doesn't matter. You have good people in your life, you'll figure it out."

"You'll what?"

"Go get cleaned up."

"You were about to say you would help."

She stopped and took a deep breath. "Yes." She admitted. "But this isn't the time or the place to discuss that sort of thing."

When you least expect it, he thought. The Oracle of Quantico strikes again. This is such a bad idea but somehow it's right. "So far in my life I have been at least flirted with by four women and considered myself in a relationship with one more and all of them have been involved in a criminal investigation one way or another. Apparently the universe has determined that I will meet women in the worse possible circumstances. Can we at least discuss this over dinner?"

Thankfully she was smiling. "All right."

Hey look Morgan, he thought, all I need is a brace of violent, sadistic Unsubs outside the door, no way to contact the team and the sure promise of rape in the next 24 hours and I have _tons_ of game. "You know, I told my boss once that I find that I do some of my best work under extreme terror"

He turned to get that shower and left her laughing.

* * *

Thankfully they didn't see anyone in the hallway. Walking back in just a pair of undershorts was not fun. Also, more than a little chilly.

They got back, he pulled on a shirt and bundled his legs under the blankets. She went to fetch dinner and they settled on the floor by the window. "We do not get enough protein." She said as they slurped up ramen noodles with chopsticks.

"A lack of protein in the diet contributes to both physical weakness and lack of mental clarity." Spencer replied. "It's likely deliberate on their part. Gah, I hate chopsticks."

"Yeah, well given that I don't get enough calories I suggest you stay in bed as much as possible and try to make the sticks work."

Right, she did have an MD. "How much do we get?"

"About a thousand a day. Which puts me at losing about a pound a week, I'm already down by eight or so according to the scale in the medical closet. You're going to be losing about five a week easy."

Spencer winced. At his height that meant that he would lose fifteen to twenty before the point of any hope of rescue. On his frame that was close to scary. "Bed is a good plan." Preserve what energy his body held. "I'm surprised that people don't rebel from hunger."

"Drugs. You probably don't want to go there but in the cafeteria there's one side that has drinks and one side that's just racks and racks of whatever you want. You and I and Paul are likely the only ones not too high to care."

"That would do the job." Drugs use notoriously eliminated hunger cues.

"We need to find a good barbecue place."

Spencer shook his head. "Didn't your Aunt ever tell you about Dave Rossi's cooking? He'll have it back on us in a week."

"I remember him! He came over for dinner once, brought this amazing tiramisu for dessert."

"He makes it."

"Oh god!"

They chuckled, then Joanna looked at him. "We? You never said why you were in to this sort of thing."

He thought for a long moment. "I wasn't at first." He replied. "Maeve was a doctor; she was consulting on why I was suddenly developing migraines."

"Why were you?"

"I wasn't taking very good care of myself, and it was starting to catch up with me. My Mom is schizophrenic and my Dad left when I was ten. I had to take care of her for a long time. I graduated high school and went to college at thirteen, so I've pretty much been on my own my whole life. I got very good at taking care of other people, and at doing my job, but not at taking care of myself. Not that I didn't have the skills, I just never made it a priority."

"A lot of people are like that I think." She said. "But starting so young, I can see it being particularly bad for you."

"Exactly. So, you know, I just kept going until I couldn't anymore. Maeve started poking at me to take care of myself. It kind of got around the roadblock in my head because I was doing it to make _her_ happy, if that makes sense, because she mattered so much to me. After a while it just came around that she explained it to me. And I liked it, I admit it. I mean it's not something I find particularly arousing, but it's comforting in a way. And at least for me that comfort makes opening the door to Eros easier, I guess that's the best way to put it. Anyway, by the time she started talking about things like blindfolds being fun again and what she wanted to do with my ties I was comfortable enough with her to give it a try. But we never had a chance."

"I'm sorry."

"She wouldn't want me to give up." Spencer poked at the dregs of his noodles and looked at her. "It all sounds hopeless, I know."

"No, it doesn't." Joanna poked at her noodles as well. "You know, they're going to say we're probably just thinking this because you're scared."

"I concede that. But I think it's legitimate given the situation. Why are you thinking this?"

"Possibly because I'm scared for you."

"Great."

"I agree with the legitimacy though. Having something you can control, that you can hang on to, is really important. And just because something is temporary doesn't make it any less real."

"Temporary?" He asked.

"Maybe." She poked at her noodles again and thought about it. "So we're negotiating?"

Huh. He hadn't thought of it that way. Maeve had said that all good BDSM relationships start with negotiation, clear communication about everyone's wants and needs and limits. He had to admit, that was part of what attracted him to the concept. He might be an expert at reading microexpressions and body language at work but he sucked at it in social situations. Clear communication was a much better idea for him. "Yeah, I guess we are."

"Okay. So here's what I'm proposing. We do this in three stages. The first is in here. The second is from whenever we get stable outside of here to when we're healthy again. The third is after that. We re-negotiate at each point."

"So be able to alter the parameters and expectations depending on circumstances. I like that. I'm sure that my boss, at least, will require an overnight hospital stay after this for observation. Depending on injuries that might take longer. I propose defining 'stable' as arrival at a safe living arrangement post-discharge. At that point we should have an idea of what the healing process should entail."

"Safe living arrangement. I have an apartment in the family compound in Georgetown."

He always felt so safe in that space. "That would work."

"All right. And I propose healthy as when you're cleared to go back to work. Returning to work should be an easier process for me so you should have the later start date."

Easier for her, partially because her job was less physically demanding, partially because he was more likely to be injured. Much more likely. "That sounds like a plan."

All of a sudden the lights went out.

Spencer's eyes snapped shut and he pulled his knees up to his chin. "What is it?" Joanna asked.

"Mild scotophobia." He admitted. "Okay, maybe not so mild."

"Give it a moment. They only do that to prevent people looking in through the windows."

After a moment he cautiously lifted his head. The lights of the city kept the room from being too dark. "Thank god."

"So." She smiled a little. "Wants? Needs? Limits?"

She wasn't being serious. There was no way of tending to any of that here. But what had been stewing in the back of his mind came out into the dark. "I want to not do this. I don't want these memories."

"Don't want these memories?"

"Are you familiar with the term eidetic memory?"

Joanna's eyes widened. "Oh god."

"I do not want my first and likely only memories of this experience to be with an Unsub."

"Not only. I can promise you that right now. Not only."

Oh god. Spencer felt himself blushing to the tips of his ears. He could not look at her. It was dark. All sorts of things were coming out. "You know, that always seemed like an overwhelming, out of control force to me."

She smiled gently. "I won't let it get overwhelming or out of control."

She wouldn't, he knew that somehow. And knowing that made him feel so safe. He hadn't felt like that since Maeve. Which was why he did something he did so very rarely. He reached out and took her hand. "Promise?"

That wasn't all he was asking. She squeezed his hand tight. "Absolutely." She replied.

Before they could say anything more there was a knock and then a head coming around the door. "I need your help, Jo." Paul said.

"Put a pin in that." Joanna said before she went to help.

A pin? Spencer would never forget it.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12  
Day 02**

 _Note: This chapter rated M_

The day dawned far too bright.

Spencer woke in the same position he'd been in when he fell asleep, lying facing the building across the street. He had tried to stay awake until Joanna returned but hadn't managed that. Now he had to wonder where she was.

And then he felt someone move behind him, and an arm drape over him. For a moment he panicked.

But only for a moment. Once the first adrenaline rush passed he became very aware of a warm, soft body pressed against his, of the whisper breath on his skin, of feeling very safe and coddled somehow. He instinctively pressed back into her arms, and felt her shift in her sleep to hold him.

Then her arm tightened, and it wasn't sleep anymore. "Good morning." She murmured.

"Good morning. Everything all right?"

"One of the girls tried to OD. We managed to stop it."

"Good." As hard as this might be anything was better than dead, right?

"Maybe." She placed a kiss on his shoulder, making him shiver. Okay, this part was wonderful. "Let me take first pass in the bathroom and then I'll go get breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Such a prosaic concept here.

"Oatmeal with raisins, tang and really bad coffee. At least it's food." She went in the bathroom. He heard the shower go, not for long, and then in due time she came out. "Take a shower while I'm gone. And, um..." She held some kind of packet in her hand. "If they aren't happy Darius and his boys will do it, in an open shower room." She handed him the packet. "They make people cry when they do."

It was an enema kit. "Great."

"Not my thing. We'll never discuss this again."

"Thank you." He ducked into the bathroom as she went out.

* * *

They didn't talk much over breakfast. After she pulled over a crate she'd brought back. "All right, you need to learn a few things. I know this is going to suck but better you get your first experiences here with me so you get the panicking out of the way. You really don't want to lose control with the monsters upstairs. I've been putting people back together after that for weeks, it's..."

"Yeah." She had a point. He looked in the crate and pulled out a thing. It was as large as Derek Morgan's forearm, and anatomically shaped, including the fist at the end. "I don't think that's possible." He said.

"No. Jimmy put that in there as a joke. Or threat. Although as I understand most of the men here can take that beast."

"No." Spencer replied, as he put it back in the crate.

"No." She agreed. "That said I know they're paying to feel that stretch, but if you're completely unfamiliar with the sensation I'm afraid you'll end up tearing something. So we need to compromise to keep you safe without pissing them off." She sighed. "I cannot believe we're doing this."

"I know."

"If I know my aunt she probably would have invited you over for dinner while she was in town. We should be meeting again over her pot roast, not like this. We should be doing this after a few months of dating."

"That would have been preferable, but Unsubs tend to get involved at the worst possible time. You get used to it."

"Great."

"Wait, you would have gone out with me?"

"Absolutely. Where would you have taken me?"

"Wherever you wanted to go." It was a quick but honest answer. "Which doesn't help much."

"Hmmm. A day at Eastern Market, then home to barbecue?"

"That sounds like a wonderful day."

"There we go." She reached into the box and pulled out something else.

Thankfully this one was only a little wider than a finger, rounded and curved, although it was steel. He looked at it with much less skepticism. "Maybe." He said. He could do that, maybe. "Do you have the..." He looked over and saw her putting on gloves. "Really?"

"You need to get used to other people." She said. "Put the pillow on a crate."

"I'm going to go die of embarrassment now." He said. But she was right. He put the pillow on a milk crate and bent over it, using it for extra support. He swore he _was_ going to die of embarrassment as he felt his pants coming down and gentle gloved hands, something cool, and then the pressure. "Are you sure that's the smallest one?"

"Yes. This reaction is what I was concerned about. Push back against me. A little more..."

It looked small but felt enormous. There was pressure and more pressure and something cool and slippery moving and then all of a sudden it sort of worked. It slipped in. "Ohhh. That feels so weird." It was inside him, inside his body, and he felt weak and warm and strangely relaxed, all at once.

"I'm keeping it pointed up for now."

"What happens if you point it down?" Spencer felt it turn inside him and then land on something in there. She moved it over that spot...

He groaned as his skin took fire. It felt like he was being touched everywhere, all of it good. He felt all the blood in his body head south and everything come alive.

She was quiet while he rode out the sensation. "Reactions like that are why women own strap-ons." She said.

"Really?" He could not imagine. In reply she moved it somehow, sending another wave of pure pleasure through him, making him groan. And now he was hard as a rock. Oh, he could so imagine. "I can see it. Oh."

"Pull your shorts up." She said as she got up to go wash her hands. "Leave it in to get used to the idea."

Used to the idea? He was supposed to get used to feeling like this? He pulled up his shorts and realized just how sensitive he was at the moment. And that thing moved with every breath, resting heavy on that set of nerves. His whole body felt so very alive now. He would never get used to this.

She brought back a glass of hot water, now she dropped two items into the glass. "How are you doing?"

"All right so far."

"Okay here." Joanna pulled the two things out of the water and passed them over. "Put these over your teeth and let them cool. Don't worry, they won't stick." These were thin sheets of plastic used for veneers for movies. Only the teeth had been covered with foil. Spencer put them on and felt them tightening as they cooled. While he did that Joanna went and dug around in the basket she'd brought back yesterday. "As soon as they're hard break the suction with your tongue and then put them on again."

Spencer did so and found that they slipped off easily but would stay in place if he wanted. "What are these for? Do I have to wear them all the time?"

"No, they're for practice." She'd been wiping something down with a disinfectant cloth, now she held it up.

It was a penis.

Specifically it was a dildo, made of some rubbery material. Someone had placed thin wires along the surface. The base was attached to a plastic box with two small lights, one lit. "Here" She said. "Put those back on and then gently bite on the end." Spencer did as bidden and found that when his teeth touched the surface it set off the second light and a buzzer. "I've never seen one of these anywhere else you know. Your goal is to put all of this down your throat so your lips touch the base." She said. "Without setting off the buzzer."

She had to be kidding. This thing was huge. "That is not physically possible." He said.

"Oh, that is entirely physically possible. You can either take your time and work out how to do it now or they can force it later. But if they feel your teeth they'll hit you hard enough to knock some out, so I strongly suggest you try now."

Well, hell. He took the thing and shoved the end in his mouth.

Buzz

"Try to keep your lips over your teeth." She said.

Okay. He tried that and got a little further.

Buzz

"You have to open your mouth wider."

Buzz

"Wider"

Buzz

"Wider."

He stopped. "I can't." His muscles felt like they were at their limit.

"Yes you can. Try again." She came around and knelt behind him. He felt the warmth of her against his back and a gentle touch as she stroked the sides of his jaw. "Relax these muscles here. Right here. There you go. Just a little more..."

And so it went. He managed to open his mouth enough to accommodate the girth of the thing. When it hit the back of his throat and he started to gag she gently stroked his throat, reminded him to breathe, had him change the angle of his head. And slowly, inch by torturous inch, the giant thing eased down his throat until he reached the very bottom. Some part of him was shocked that he was doing this, kneeling in this sunbeam with an elegant woman behind him, doing _this_. And some part of him was a little proud that he did it.

And feeling those internal sensations at the same time. Of course the first time he was in a situation this erotic, the first time he felt this _alive_ , there would be an Unsub involved. His life was like that. It was still amazing.

"There you go." She sounded so pleased by his feat here. "Now keep your throat relaxed and work it in and out. Yeah, like that. Just like that. Yeah. Keep breathing. Here" He felt her fingers over his, and then she took the end of it and gently worked it in and out. He felt a moment of fear but she was so gentle it passed. After a few minutes of that she pulled it out completely. "Good job! You made it through the first part."

Spencer was gagging a little. His jaw ached and his throat was on fire. "First part?"

"Yeah. It gets harder. Here, have some water while I go get lunch."

"Lunch?" Yes, the sun had moved while they were working.

The night was coming closer.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13  
Day 02**

Lunch was tuna fish on white bread and carrot sticks. At least it was protein. "You would think I would be hungry." Spencer said

"Given everything?" Joanna replied.

"Good point."

"All right. Come stand over here." She said when they were done. She had him stand against the wall, and then stuck a sort of a bracket up just below the level of his groin. The dildo mounted in the bracket so it stuck straight out of the wall. "Now do it again."

Crap. This was harder. He couldn't change the angle of the thing so he had to adjust the angle of his head and throat. But it didn't feel as impossible as it had at first, with patience he was able to get it to go. He took it until his nose brushed the wall and then backed off.

Once again Joanna was right there beside him. "Okay, do it again. And again." This time he felt her hands on his wrists as she slipped the cuffs on and fastened them behind him. Now he couldn't use his hands to balance, he had to move by rocking his body, which made that thing inside him shift and move as well, making it harder and harder to focus. "Okay, again. Only I want you to try to twist your head to the side, just a little, and press your face to the wall." That meant going a centimeter or so further, and turning a little, which didn't hurt as much as he thought. He felt her hand on his chest. "Okay, do it again and hold there. I want to see if you can breathe." Turning his head just a little kept one nostril from being crushed. He could get short breaths that way. "And again. Good. Now do it again."

This time she put a hand on the back of his head and crushed the side of his face against the wall, pinning him there.

He panicked. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't fight back with his hands bound. He started thrashing, pushing back against her, fighting for air, freedom, something.

"Breathe Spencer. Breathe. Calm down, you're okay. You're okay. Just breathe. In and out, like I told you. Just breathe."

After a moment the adrenalin went down again. He could breathe, he realized. Short breaths but he was getting air. He let her crush his face against the wall, his throat full of plastic, as he focused on his breathing. After a few moments he felt her pull on his hair, pulling him partway off before she pressed his face down again and held it. But he could breathe. She repeated that a few times before she pulled him all the way off. "There you go! That was great! And you didn't even bite."

He was coughing, gasping for a true lungful of air. "Forgot I could." He admitted. "That was horrible."

"I know. Only one more round to go. Here" She held the bottle so he could gulp down the cool, good water.

"There's more?" How much harder could this get?

"Yeah." As he watched Joanna stepped out of her pants and into this harness thing that fastened around her waist and between her legs. When she was done another bracket was resting against her pubic bone.

And she mounted the dildo in it.

He watched her, his mouth suddenly very dry.

She pulled her pants up over the toy, somehow packing it away. Then she leaned against the wall for support. "Okay, give it a try."

Give it a try. Give it a try. Spencer had to shuffle over on his knees. He didn't even feel the thing inside him as a thing anymore, just this heaviness that hit in the right spot to make him feel very aware of his body. And this was making it so much worse. He'd talked about doing this sort of thing with Maeve, in a mostly teasing but still tempting sort of way. And now here it was for real.

He had to press against her skin to make this work, so close he could smell the perfume that lingered somewhere on her body, dark and heady and rich. He felt the heat of her beneath the thin shirt she wore, and how her skin jumped and twitched from the pressure of his cheek and mouth. He had to focus to get the button undone with his teeth, and the zipper down, and he had to nuzzle over her right there to get that rubber thing out again.

Then she threaded her hands in his hair and he dropped completely.

He'd heard of this effect, although he had never felt it before. Some called it subspace, some called it flow. Whatever it was in that moment his mind went utterly still. The outside world dropped away. All he knew was sensation without distraction. His whole world was the thick, heady feeling of arousal and the open, helpless sensation of having his throat plundered. Her touch was the one thing anchoring him to this earth. And he knew in his bones she would never let go.

Some dim, distant part of his mind still functioning said that it took years to develop this kind of trust between partners. How did this happen so _fast_?

But that was a thought to be explored later. Right now there was only warmth and movement and the slowly increasing sensation in the pit of his belly. Her hips moved, rocking his entire body. If he could do anything right now he would cling to her but his arms were trapped so all he could do was push closer, lean into her, let her take more and more. All that mattered was this.

And when she stopped, when she pulled away, when she bent to him and her lips found his. It was the third kiss of his life and the most glorious. At that moment he knew he was home at last.

Then, in some far distant place, he heard a knock on a door.

She left him then, but he didn't mind. He was content to wait in this peaceful, warm state until she returned for him. He didn't start coming out of it until he heard her voice. "Spencer. Spencer."

"Hmmm?"

The look in her eyes made him start shaking it off. "They want you upstairs in ten minutes."

The peaceful world wasn't peaceful anymore.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14  
Day 02**

Spencer really didn't want to go upstairs.

Joanna really didn't want to take him.

But fearing that refusal would only make it worse she did as she was bidden, helped him get fixed up the way they wanted, and escorted him down to the south elevator.

It wasn't that he was being taken to a place with an enormous Unsub population. It wasn't that he was going unarmed and unarmored. It wasn't even that he was going barefoot and barely covered. It was that what little he was wearing was white lace underpants. Translucent, nearly see through white lace underpants. "I have never felt this ridiculous." He murmured as they walked out, her hand firmly on her elbow.

"No one is looking." She murmured in reply.

They walked past Paul. Spencer glanced up to see that the other man face was a mask. No one was calling attention to anyone else here tonight. It was kind of comforting, this not being alone. It was something at least.

Into the elevator with two other couples. Up to the next floor. Walk down a hall with thick, padded carpeting, antique furnishing and low lighting. Past an open area that sounded like a small, noisy crowd, redolent with expensive perfume and the scents from a small bar. In to a good sized room set up like a bedroom, complete with four-poster bed. Kneel in the center of a bed. And wait.

Joanna knelt in front of him. "I don't want to leave you here." She murmured.

"I don't want to be left." He replied. His heart was pounding. More than anything he wanted to cover himself in the blanket beneath him.

She reached up and slipped off his glasses. "Safekeeping." She said. "I'll be waiting for you, I promise."

"I know." He could trust her, he knew that. And that was huge.

"Remember, don't say anything and don't look them in the eye. Good luck." And with that she had to go.

Don't look them in the eye, don't say anything. Spencer knelt there quietly and waited.

About fifteen minutes later the door opened, letting in the sound of a cocktail party going somewhere not far away. "Here you are Marjorie." The man in the blue suit said. "Sweet and innocent as a lamb, just as I promised."

"Oh Charles, he's _magnificent_." An older woman said.

Spencer dared a very quick glance. She had at least one bodyguard waiting in the hallway. Damn.

"Enjoy corrupting him. If you need anything let us know."

"Of course." Spencer heard the door close, and he was alone with the Unsub.

He flicked his eyes up as she moved about the space. She was of medium height, slender, elegant, likely well into her seventies, if not over eighty. She radiated wealth, from her evening gown to her well-coiffed white hair to the cloud of powdery, musky, rotting flower perfume that was slowly filling the room. Confidence, he noted from her body language, control. Likely no compassion, she wouldn't help him. Maybe he'd have a chance to check her handbag for a cell phone, he'd have to watch for that.

He smelled her as she came closer. "Tell me Tup." She said. "Have you ever been with a woman before?"

Uhhh, did the one time with Maeve and a burner phone count? He shook his head, figuring that was the answer she wanted.

"Good." She slid up on to the bed next to him, pushed him onto his back. "I do love watching a boy become a man."

Become a...hardly. But he didn't have a chance to become truly indignant, because she put her hand over that lace, over _him_ , and the world started to go grey around him.

 _No_

The cloying, rotting scent followed him into the darkness.

* * *

She had to leave him there. She had to leave him there, trussed up, mostly blind, nearly naked, and entirely helpless. She had to leave him there at the mercy of god only knew who and come back down here just to wait.

It was going to kill her.

Joanna found herself pacing the short length of hallway outside of her cell, over and over, watching women taken up stairs in good condition and coming back down bruised and sobbing. If that was happening to them then what was happening to Spencer?

Eventually Paul found her. "You too?" He asked.

"I'm not going to use anything." She replied. "It would be disrespectful. Although I can understand the impulse." Just a little something to take the edge off this nervous hell. But a little something would lead to more and more and...

"Fair enough. You going to explain this to me?"

Joanna thought about it for a few turns of the hall. "I think we love too hard." She said finally. "We love so hard we get possessive about it. He's mine, damn it. He's mine and it makes me sick to think of someone else putting their hands on him."

"He's yours huh? How does he feel about that?"

She managed a smile. "That's the amazing thing about this community. It helps the people who love that hard find the people who want to be loved that hard. Hell, he brought it up."

"I guess if it works for you."

"It does. Oh, I just want to go up there and start breaking heads."

"Maybe someday you'll get your chance."

"One can hope."

"You know, you two did just meet."

"No, actually. We met a couple of times before I went to study in Europe. He worked with my aunt for a while. He's a close friend of the family."

"Ahhh. Makes more sense then."

"I haven't seen him for six years though. I was hoping to meet him again; she's had so many good things to say about him."

"Aunties know things."

"Yeah they do."

There really wasn't anything to do so she paced. And paced. And paced. "How are you holding up?" Paul was the local rock, but she did try to check in with him as well.

For a moment even he looked bleak. "Missed the wedding."

"Awww, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "All enemies, foreign and domestic. As far as I'm concerned this is a domestic terrorist situation. I'm a hostage, I'm keeping my fellow hostages alive. Now including a FBI agent. So there's that. And I know my guys are looking for me, by now they have NCIS on it. Hell, they're probably keeping the guys from tearing up the city."

"Got a bleeder." Someone called from the east elevator.

"I suck at sewing." She said to Paul. "You know that."

"Yeah. You're useless tonight, I know that too." Paul grabbed a few things and went to help.

Joanna paced some more.

Until, at last, she heard a call from the south elevator. "Yo, Frankie! Come get yours!"

Joanna turned and ran to the elevator just in time for Darius to push Spencer into her arms.

They hadn't even bothered with the lace this time. He wasn't looking at anyone, either training or shock, hard to tell. But he was cooler than he should be. "Come on." She began walking him quickly back to their cell. He reeked like a funeral; this powdery, sick floral scent was all over him. It was stomach turning. "Hot shower. Right now." She said as soon as the door was closed. She took his cuffs off only to have his hands hang limply. "Spencer?"

He wasn't looking at her. He wasn't looking at _anything_.

Oh shit.

Paul knocked, then stuck his head around the door. "He okay?"'

"I don't know yet. Spencer, come here." He didn't respond but when she took his arm and tugged he followed and went down on the milk crate easily enough. "He's not responding to sounds; he's almost in a comatose state." She started running her fingers along his scalp, feeling for any damage.

"Uh oh." Paul came in and lifted Spencer's chin, using the little flashlight they gave him to check his eyes. "His pupils are responding. That's good. Probably not drugs then. Hasn't lost bladder control, we'd have heard about that. He didn't look like he was having balance issues."

"No. I'm not finding any damage. Someone was all over him but they didn't leave any marks."

"No kidding. What is that?"

"Chanel Number Five I think." Her former landlady loved the stuff. She never could stand it.

"Nasty. Could be a concussion."

"Without any marks?"

"You're the brain expert." Paul replied. "I'm just a medic." He looked Spencer over again. "He's not injured. And he's responding to physical movements. It's like he can't hear or see us but otherwise he's responding normally."

All of a sudden Joanna had a thought. "He blacked out."

"Just now?" Paul asked.

"No, about twenty years ago. Give me a few, I want to try something."

"Okay, I'll go check on the others. If you need me pass word."

"Yeah, I will." As soon as Paul was gone Joanna navigated Spencer into the tiny bathroom and turned the shower on hot. The cheap motel soap they used here smelled strongly of chemicals, it would do well for her purpose. She pushed Spencer in to sit on the floor of the shower, stripped off her clothes and climbed in after him so she could give him a proper bathe. "Good for the goose and all. I don't think my scars would turn you off. I don't know if you can hear me," she said as she worked, "and I believe you can't see me but scent is the most primal sense. I doubt it's gone. At least I hope it's not gone."

She scrubbed and rinsed and scrubbed until every trace of his encounter was washed away, leaving only the clean scent of water on his skin. She pulled him out and dried him off with the cleanest towel she had. Then she pulled him out into the bedroom again and set him on the bed, draping the blanket around his hips and thighs.

This had to work. It had to.

She went to the box in the corner and pulled a small square of cotton out of the pile. She'd managed to retrieve it from the tattered remains of her top when they'd brought her here, now she could only hope it would help.

She crouched beside Spencer and waved the handkerchief under his nose. "Come back to me, love." She said. "Come back to me."


	16. Chapter 15

_This chapter rated M. Trigger warning: Rape_

 **Chapter 15  
Day 02**

"Stroke." Spencer said.

"Your eyes are reacting evenly." Joanna replied. "Smile for me." He gave her a big grin. "Close your eyes and lift your arms over your head. Squeeze my hands. Press in. Press out. Repeat after me, the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog."

"The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog." He replied.

"Feel like standing on one foot?"

"Not without pants."

"Can't be one hundred percent without imaging but I would say not a stroke."

"TIA?"

"Can't get your blood pressure, so a point for that. Another two for the duration of the event. You're still in the low risk category."

"Guillain-Barre syndrome"

"Starts in the lower extremities and works up. You were walking without issue. Any pins and needles anywhere?"

"No." Damn it. "Myasthenia gravis."

"Your eyes don't look weak. Well, weaker than usual. Here" She handed him a water bottle, then put a gentle hand on his throat. "Drink. Nope, no problem swallowing. You also don't have a spinal cord injury and have no history of epilepsy, Lupis or HIV."

Son of a bitch. "I'm not crazy."

"No one is saying that you are crazy.

"I'm an FBI agent, I can handle stress."

"Everyone has a line that the mind cannot cross. Past that reactions become unpredictable."

"I've _killed_ people, for god's sake!"

"So that's not your line. This is."

"No, I just..."

"Spencer. You're in the right age bracket, have a family history of mental illness, one parent who is chronically ill and another who was MIA, a personal history of neglect and sexual trauma in childhood, a recent history of depression and just went through a sexual assault. The only risk factor you're missing is being female." She settled on the bed next to him. "When you were ten you traumatically connected a woman's touch to your genitals with pain, shame and fear. Now your mind is protecting you from the excessive stress of it happening again."

He sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. "I couldn't see and I couldn't hear and all I could feel was movement. I don't even know what she did to me."

"I think we can both guess at what she tried, love." She reached around to hold him there.

"Yeah." And it wasn't fair. Now he couldn't make the tears stop.

"It's going to be completely different."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

* * *

 **Day 03**

Being trapped by an Unsub was hell.

Waking in the arms of a woman you were falling in...no, you were in love with... was bliss.

Spending the day in bed with her was better. The lack of food and general stress was starting to tell, he could feel the grayness of depression slipping in around him, making getting up that much harder. If nothing else the concrete floors were cold. "You know what everyone is going to say." Joanna said. "Too fast."

"Hardly. We've known each other for years. You know what would have happened? You would have told your aunt you were back in the country when she returned to the States and she would have asked me to come make sure you were okay and the house was safe."

"And I would have made tea, of course, and brought out the biscuits. Cookies."

"And we would have started talking."

"And the next thing you know we would be ordering in a take-away supper because time got away from us. You would go home ridiculously late, and on your way out the door I would have asked you to show me DC sometime."

"And I would have suggested the earliest possible opportunity. Likely the next day if I could."

"And I would have taken you up on that. We'd spend all day together talking."

"And the next free day as well."

"And eventually I would have confessed to the family traditions."

"And I would have admitted my curiosity."

"And we would have to have dinner back at the house so I could help satisfy that curiosity."

Spencer felt himself turning red. "Really?"

"Absolutely. One way or another you would have been moving in in two weeks."

He chuckled. Maybe not that fast, but she was likely right. "Do you think you aunt and uncle are going to be all right with that?"

"Are you kidding? She adores you."

* * *

There really wasn't anything to do during the day. One of the biggest dangers of captivity was boredom, and the anxiety and depression that went along with it. Spencer asked Jo to look for some items that fit an idea he had. She brought back empty drug bottles and the side of a box. He started peeling labels and scoring lines.

When they were eating lunch they heard someone screaming.

A few minutes later Paul knocked. "Roof's protected too."

"Is everyone all right?" Joanna asked.

"Yeah. One of the guys was all blitzed up on PCP. I doubt he'll remember it. Darius and the others aren't even blaming him; they just tossed him back into his room."

"Why did he try the roof?"

"Someone may have steered him in that direction."

"Right."

Paul left. Spencer looked at Joanna. "At this point I don't know what else to do other than wait for the team." He said. "Chess?"

"Sure."

There was a knock on the door. "Damn it." Spencer's heart leapt into his throat as Joanna went to the door. She came back with a folded item. "At least it's black lace this time." She said.

* * *

This time they didn't go to a bedroom. This time it was a room done like an elegant library, complete with work table. Maybe this meant another Unsub. Maybe it meant another chance to do something to get out of here.

Once again she took his glasses for safekeeping. "I learned something from Maeve." He said.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Never wait." He replied. The timing was horrible, but it could have been worse. No one was holding a gun to her head. And he wasn't going to wait for that to say what he was feeling. "I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with you."

She looked at him a long moment and slowly smiled. "Good. Because I'm completely sure I'm falling in love with you." She pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'll be there when it's over."

"I know." The one good thing about this.

Then she was gone.

He waited.

The same Unsub swept into the room on a cloud of rotten flowers and powdery musk. "There he is!" She crowed. "There's my beautiful boy. What do you think?"

"Hmmmm." Spencer dared to flick a glance. A man was with her this time, one who reminded him of Hotch in a way, similar height, build, and coloring in a dark suit. But the attitude was very different; this one's body language was relaxed, playful yet confident. Entitled, Spencer thought, and justified. He kept his eyes down as the man walked around him, giving him a whiff of the glass of scotch in his hand. "Not bad Marjorie. Not bad at all."

"Not bad. He's _adorable_." Marjorie came over and ran her fingers through Spencer's hair. "I haven't had one this lovely to break in far too long."

"Well I am honored you asked me to help." The man said. He sat in a chair right in front of Spencer. "You have permission to speak, boy, if you can be polite about it. Ever been with a man before?"

Be polite about it. Appease the Unsub, you know what answer he wants. "No, Sir." Spencer said.

"Huh. All right then. Get over here and show me what you think that mouth can do." He said. "And don't let me feel your teeth."

Okay, at least he had a clue. Spencer crawled over and got the man's fly open, much as he had Joanna's just a few days before. But there was no patch of sunshine, no heady perfume to help him fall into that sweet space, and he was glad of it. No, there was the sharp scent of the scotch and the funk of cigar tobacco and the sharp, familiar awareness of being too close to an Unsub and having to notice everything. A phone. If he could only get a phone out of a pocket here.

Thankfully this man was smaller than the dildo they used for practice.

Even once it started Spencer didn't slip into either the warm place he'd shared with Joanna or the grayed out fog from the other night. He was not enjoying this at all, he really wanted it to stop, but he'd wanted beatings to stop before in his life and he managed to get through them. That's what this was, a form of beating. There was nothing sexual about it, at least not for him. He could take a beating and stay mentally sharp.

The man took a sip of his drink, a move meant to dehumanize his victim, then he put his hand on the back of Spencer's head and pressed, trying to cut off his air flow. He didn't, that little head twist Joanna taught him helped, but just barely so. Spencer still found himself desperately heaving for more, more, more as the world started going spotty and gray. The man pulled him back off, letting him take a whooping gasp. "Are you enjoying your first time, boy?" He asked.

One answer wanted. "Yes, Sir!"

"Liar." But it was said with humor. Then the man pushed him back down to choke him again.

"I want to see you take him." The woman said. "I want to watch his face."

"Do you?" The man pushed him off. Spencer took long, deep breaths as he stared at the penis bobbing in front of his face.

"My husband and I shared a companionate marriage. We both loved breaking the beautiful boys he brought home." Spencer heard her moving away from the back of the chair, where she had been watching. "I want to see at least one more if I can."

"I think I can accommodate that Marjorie." The man got up, grabbed Spencer by the arm, and all but threw him over the table.

Spencer landed face down, his arms trapped behind him, only to feel a strong hand lift his chin. Even without his glasses he could see the entitlement and lust in the cold blue eyes watching his face. "Make him finish for me." She said.

"I might not be able too." The man said behind him. Spencer felt those ridiculous shorts being cut off. "It's not always mechanical. But I'll give it a try."

"Good enough."

Spencer felt himself parted, opened, something cool and damp. Then pressure. More pressure. Too much pressure. As he had with Jo he relaxed and pressed back, which helped somewhat, but there was too much for it. There was more and more until he couldn't stop the cry from his throat as he swore he was going to be ripped apart.

"Oh, he is lovely." Said the man behind him.

"Marvelous." Said the woman. She slowly smiled at the distress she must have seen on Spencer's face.

Spencer fought to take his mind away. He found that focusing on the pain inside him made it easier to ignore what was happening to him All he did was endure until he heard the man groan and felt the finish of it all.

Then he had to try not to be sick.

The man behind him arched over him for a moment and then finally pulled away. "I owe you for this one, darling." The man said. "You are a very lucky woman."

"I know." The woman said. She met Spencer's eyes again and caressed his face. "By the time I'm done you are going to beg me to let someone take you like that, dear Tup. That is only the first taste of what's to come." Then she kissed his forehead and left.

Spencer rested his head against the cool table, and let his tears fall.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16  
Day 03**

Somehow Spencer kept his hold on reality this time.

He rather wished he hadn't.

He was too numb to care about his lack of dress as he was taken back to the elevator. He was too numb to notice anything around him. He was too numb to do much of anything.

Until the doors opened and he saw Joanna's worried face. Only then did he finally start to feel anything. "Come on." She murmured quietly.

He stumbled after her, not looking at anyone or anything until they were back in their cell and the door closed behind them. "I can't stop shaking." He said.

"You might be going in to shock." She said. "Come on." She freed his arms and then pulled him into the bathroom, cranking the shower to hot when she got there. "It's the only way I have to warm you up."

"It's fine." He couldn't stop shaking. His very core was shaking. "I want to get the smell off."

"So do I. We did this last night; you just weren't here for it."

She'd run him through a shower somehow. Thank god. "Thank you." The water was hot enough. He went to pick up the sliver of soap but it fell out of his shaking hands. "Damn it."

"Come here." She gently pushed him under the hot spray. "You're mine until you can say otherwise, and you can't right now, so let me take care of you."

The hot water ought to make him feel warmer, he thought, but he was shaking. Still, it was an improvement. He lifted his face into the water and let it wash his tears. Why couldn't he stop shaking?

Then he felt the change in the air as the shower door opened and closed, and she was right behind him. Between the water and the steam and the lack of glasses he couldn't see any detail, but he could feel them and he knew that she's stripped down to join him. Joanna picked up the soap and started working it over his shoulders. "Should be handmade." She said. "Soft on your skin." Memories flashed through Spencer's mind, and a broken sound escaped him. "What is it?" Jo asked.

"I was just...thinking of this one time your aunt looked after me. I was in the hospital and she stayed there..."

"She does that."

"I always feel so safe around her." He turned so she could keep going. "I feel like that now."

She worked the lather over his shoulders and neck. "Now that is special. Thank you."

"I just don't know why, because..."

"You're the FBI agent in the room?"

"Yeah."

"There's a difference between physical and emotional dangers." She washed the scents off his rib cage. "She probably wanted to protect your heart. I do too."

"You are."

"I just wish I could do more."

"I know." He pulled her into a hug then, heedless of where they were, what they were doing. "Thank you."

She held him for a long time. "Let me finish." She said.

He nodded and stepped back so she could. She washed him all over, except for... "You do the rest." She said.

That was entirely unexpected. Granted he had been steeling himself for her touch there, he had no idea why. "I thought..."

"No, you're mine. Every last bit. You're just going to have to trust me on this one; I'll only do that if you can't."

He did trust her, completely. So he finished the last bits on his own.

Once dried and dressed Jo went for supper while Spencer curled up on the bed. She came back with the usual noodles. "I don't think I can eat." He admitted. "I can still taste it."

"The strong flavor of the broth will help." She replied. "You need to eat."

"I know." He managed to start getting it down. "I don't think I can stand the scent of scotch or cigars anymore. Sorry Dave."

She smiled a little. "I think he'll understand."

"He will. I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight. Every time I close my eyes it's happening again." Damn it, he was still crying, just a little.

"Finish dinner. We'll try something."

They finished in silence. He crawled into bed while she took the bowls back. When she returned she crawled in behind him. "Am I scaring you?"

"No. Not at all."

"Good. Lay down." He put his head on the pillow, as she gently stroked his hair. "Just listen." She said.

Then she started to sing.

He couldn't really make out the words, something quiet and like a lullaby. The tune was gentle, soft and lulling. He was so tired, so very tired. Eventually his eyes closed on his own.

He followed her voice down into the darkness.

* * *

 **Day 04**

"I want to go home." Spencer said.

Another day without much energy, compounded now by his feelings about last night. He felt so very ashamed of what happened. He knew he shouldn't, he knew this was all on them, he had done nothing to feel ashamed about, but the shame was real. He just kept remembering how it felt, the look on Marjorie's face, how he wanted to twist away and hide...

"We'll go home." Jo replied, as she gently stroked him. "We'll go home."

"I don't have a home."

"Then we'll make one."

"I thought you said you were living in the family compound?"

"I am. One of the townhouses in the west building."

He quickly checked his mental map. "Your aunt was living in that building. The unit furthest south."

"I took the one on the north side. Better windows."

"Ah. I could see that being a home."

"We'll make it a home."

"I stayed one night in your Aunt's guest room. It was a bad case, she didn't want me alone. Are there two beds in every bedroom?"

"You mean that really wide window seat?

"Yeah."

"Apparently that's for taking naps." He swore he could feel her smile in the air. "Every Sunday after lunch we'd have nap time. You had to go to your room and keep quiet. When you were little you had a nap in those window seats."

"Kind of big for kids naps."

"They're sized for adults. Remember, those houses were built back in the Edwardian era, when servants were common. You wouldn't want the maid to have to re-make the bed after."

"After..." It took a moment but then Spencer got it. "So those are for, um, intimate encounters."

"Or so I was told when I was an adult. I picked the one with the most privacy."

"Good to know. It's going to be different?" Not this enormous sense of twisting shame?

"I promise."

"Then I'll look forward to naps. What happened after?"

"Tea, usually."

"That sounds nice."

There was a knock on the door.


	18. Chapter 17

_Trigger warning: Rape Torture_

 _This is the most graphic chapter. Consider yourselves warned._

* * *

 **Chapter 17  
Day 04**

There wasn't anything special to wear tonight. Apparently the standard was what they used for underwear. At least it covered the genital region, about as much as snug swim shorts would. Spencer would have preferred more.

Once again they landed in a different room. This was something like a locker room, a large space, lockers on one side, sinks with exposed plumbing on the second, urinals right across and the far end one giant, open shower room. The guard with them told him to kneel by the lockers. "I have nightmares about places like this." Spencer murmured.

"It'll be over soon." Jo replied. "Take you home, soak you in a big tub full of bubbles."

"Epsom salts. The magnesium is relaxing."

"All right." She bent over and plucked off his glasses. "I'll keep them safe."

"Actually, leave them on him." Said a male voice from the door. Spencer recognized his rapist from the night before. "But take his shorts, he won't be needing them. And free his arms for me." The man smiled. "There's a love. How come we haven't seen her around before?" He asked the guard.

"She's not so good when you get her clothes off." The guard replied.

Jo had been helping Spencer balance while he stepped out of those shorts. Now she turned and lifted her shirt, revealing the ropes of keloid scars that had grown on her abdomen after her surgeries. "Gack." The man said, his lip curling in distaste. "I see your point. At least she's useful. You can go." He waved Jo out the door. "Bring the bucket and basket." He said to the guard.

She shot Spencer one long look before she left, taking his only clothing with her.

At least that didn't last long. "Put these on." The man said, pulling something from one of the lockers and tossing it at Spencer. It turned out to be a set of thick knee pads. "You may speak if you can do so politely. Marjorie couldn't make it tonight, so she asked me to train that ass of yours. Are you familiar with black light?"

Spencer had been standing there with his hands concealing the apex of his thighs. Now he'd had to stop that to get the knee pads on. At least he could resume that position when he was done. "Yes, sir."

"Oh good." The man dimmed the lights and turned on a switch. Black lights along the edge of the ceiling came on. "That is spend. Mostly jizz."

Spencer's stomach turned. The entire floor was glowing with the iridescent green of spilled body fluids, mostly semen. It was a forensic nightmare; there was enough evidence for a hundred crime scenes. He didn't even want to breathe the air in this room. "Yes, sir."

The guard rolled in a large wire basket on wheels, one half full of clean towels, the other empty. He took a mop bucket down to the shower area and started filling it with water. "What you are going to do tonight is simple. You are going to scrub every trace of green off this floor."

Great. Spencer told himself he had done worse, surely. At least the chemicals would likely kill whatever was growing on that floor before it made it past his ankles. "Yes, sir."

"Would you demonstrate please? Start at the drain." The man said. The guard left both bucket and basket by the drain in the center of the floor. He went to one of the lockers and pulled out a large bottle of cleaner and a scrub brush. "Spray the floor, wet the brush, scrub, and when the green is gone dry it with a towel." The man said. The guard crouched down and scrubbed a small patch of floor. Yep, the green was gone when he was done. "When the towel is too wet to use throw it to the dirty side and grab a clean one." The guard tossed the towel with a smirk and stood up, leaving the brush and bottle there. "You'll work out from the drain in a spiral. No backtracking. When the floor is clean you're done for the night. Now get down there and get to work."

"Yes, sir." Seemed simple enough. Granted this would have been a lot better with gloves, and some kind of pants, but it wasn't that difficult. Spencer got down on the floor, picked up the brush and a towel and got to work. He was deeply aware of how he looked, down on his hands and knees like he was, but there was no hope for it.

"You will note." The man said as he stepped behind Spencer, "That as you work you will be passing over clean floor. I do not want a single drop of jizz left on this floor when you are done. This means that if you spill any you won't be going back to clean it up. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." How would he be spilling any semen in this situation. He was naked, yes, but he wasn't enjoying this.

Spencer heard a sound he didn't recognize. "You get one wallop for every drop I find." The man said. Then he brought his belt up hard between Spencer's legs. "Understand?"

Every man is sensitive to a blow to the testicles. Spencer fell over onto that dirty floor, curling into a ball as he howled in sudden agony. "Yes, sir!" He managed to get out between clenched teeth.

"Good." The man stood there and watched as Spencer recovered, got back on his knees, and went back to scrubbing. Spencer heard him to go the lockers for something. When he came back he had a bar of soap which he dunked into the mop bucket. "Keep scrubbing." The man said.

Spencer kept scrubbing, even as he heard a zipper going down. That's what the man meant. Spencer had to be complicit in his own rape or be tortured. Which was the better option? Well, he did want to be a father some day. So he did as he was told until the man was finished and tried like hell not to cry in front of him.

"So now you know the rules, Tup." The man said. "Don't spill on my clean floor. How many gentlemen are in the house tonight?" He asked the guard.

"Twelve, I believe, sir." The guard replied.

"And Darius has how many men?"

"Six, if you count him."

"Excellent. Invite the gentlemen to have a turn at Tup here. When they're done tell Darius he and his men can have a go."

Spencer could hear the smile in the guard's voice. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll be back to check later, Tup. Remember, don't spill a drop." The man's footsteps clicked off the tiles as he went.

Eighteen men? Spencer saw his tears land on the tile in front of him, glowing green in the black light. Without a sound he scrubbed them away.

* * *

.

* * *

 _Note: I'm a little nervous about this one, so comments are appreciated_


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18  
Day 04**

Paul found Jo in her room, her legs pulled up, head resting on her knees. "I was wondering if I missed you." He said.

"No." She was looking down into the building opposite. They could just make out some people working late behind the lit up windows. "It's like you could reach out and touch them. If you just could I know they would come to help."

"They would." Paul agreed. "I know I keep dreaming of my boys blowing their way in here looking for me."

"I think that's illegal inside the US."

"Don't think they'd care." He looked over and saw that she was starting to cry. "Come on now, you have to keep your focus."

Jo was quiet a long moment. "How do you do it?"

"Code of conduct. If I am captured, I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape and to aid others to escape. I will accept neither parole nor special favors from the enemy. If I become a prisoner of war, I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners. I will give no information nor take part in any action which might be harmful to my comrades. If I am senior I will take command. If not, I will obey the lawful orders of those appointed over me and will back them up in every way. I will never forget that I am an American, fighting for freedom, responsible for my actions, and dedicated to the principles which made my country free. I will trust in my God and in the United States of America. These people are terrorists, we are prisoners, we have to keep the faith. That's all."

"I'm not in the military."

"You're a doctor. You took an oath for that, didn't you?"

"Technically we don't have to. My school had us recite the Geneva Oath. I will maintain the utmost respect for human life; I will not use my medical knowledge to violate human rights and civil liberties, even under threat; I make these promises solemnly, freely and upon my honor. That sort of thing."

"There you go then."

"How am I not violating his human rights when I make it easier for them to abuse him?"

"You're keeping him from being hurt. And you're helping him do his work."

"His work?"

"I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. These people are torturing American citizens, taking their rights away. That counts as domestic in my book."

"He's not exactly in a position to stop them."

"He could say no. If he did he'd be putting you at risk. He is managing the situation to keep you out of harm's way. You are managing the situation so they do the least harm to him. You two are surviving. We're all surviving. That's what matters here."

"He deserves more than just surviving. He is up there living out his nightmares for no good god dammed reason. How do I make that right?"

"Why is that your job?"

Jo was quiet a moment. "It just is."

"Help him reintegrate, fix what was broken, that sort of thing. I've got a whole text book on it back at my place."

"I'll drive back with you, you can loan it to me." They shared a chuckle. "When I was trying to put it all back together after being in the hospital I got caught up with my classes, went back to school, and started working out so I could take control of my body again."

"So help him do that." Someone yelled for him from the hall.

"Call me if you need me."

"I will." Paul said. Then he was gone.

Jo sat and watched the people in the office building across the way. How do I help him? He deserves a rich, full life, how do I help him get that?

What was taking so long up there?

* * *

Spencer finally reached the last corner. He finished the floor.

He hurt.

His knees hurt despite the pads, the one he'd injured was swelling along nicely. His hands and wrists hurt from the scrubbing. His nose hurt from the constant assault of cleaning fumes. His back and shoulders and hips hurt from being in this position for so long.

Of course his ass hurt most of all.

He'd learned though. He'd learned exactly what they wanted to teach him.

Thankfully the bleeding wasn't that bad.

"Well, let's see Tup." The man was jovial when he returned. "Oh my, look at that. Not a hint of green anywhere. Looks like those little chickpeas of yours are safe." Spencer relaxed ever so slightly and started to move only to have them come re-fasten his wrists. They'd be marching him through the halls naked again.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted to go home but he wasn't certain where home was. Except that it likely had a wide window seat that could be used for naps there. And it smelled like Dave's cooking and Penelope's baking. And Henry could come over to hang out. And no one would get past his friends downstairs. And he never had to move out of Joanna's arms.

He wanted to go home. To that home.

At least he was leaving the locker room.

* * *

"Ow!" Spencer cried out.

"Sorry." Paul replied. "Got to get everything clean. You sure you don't want Jo helping you?"

As soon as he'd hit the prison floor Spencer had asked Jo to ask Paul to come help. Now he was bent over the sink in their small bathroom, his backside hanging over the shower pan, while Paul treated his injuries. "Not really. I'd like to maintain a shred of my dignity."

"But you're okay with me doing this?"

"You're a medic. Besides, she would cry."

"Now I believe you two have a thing going. Okay, more water."

Spencer hissed at the burning pain. Thankfully treatment for exposure to the two chemicals he had been exposed to was simply flush with lots of water, and then treat the irritation. And Paul was a professional who was able to minimize the embarrassment of having to ask for help. The bad news was that even water hurt at the moment.

Eventually everything had been flushed to Paul's satisfaction. "Nothing's torn." He said. "You don't need stitches."

"Thank Joanna for that." Spencer replied.

"I heard that." Said Jo from outside the bathroom door.

"You are really abraded and irritated though. They scraped you up pretty good. I've got some antibiotic ointment here that should help. Hang on to something."

Spencer clung to the sink and hissed as Paul worked the ointment where it needed to go. But when the other man was done he could pull up his pants and sigh in relief of that finally being over and the pain finally easing.

Granted he was limping as he started to move out of the bathroom. "You okay?"

"I was shot in the knee once. All that kneeling irritated it."

"I have access to ice, I'll bring some by."

"Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"Welcome. Just doing my duty."

"You are. Don't forget that." The quirk of Paul's lip told Spencer that his words helped.

Once Paul was gone Spencer went and landed on the bed. Joanna sat against the wall behind him. "How are you?" She asked.

"Dissociating nicely." Spencer replied. "By the time they were done it didn't even feel real anymore. I mean it was but it felt distant. I just ached and I wanted them to stop, but it wasn't as personal. I don't know."

"I'm sorry, love."

"On the plus side it didn't feel sexual. At all. Eros has been completely disconnected from this. I'm calling that a good thing."

"I agree."

"Granted given that I black out when women touch me I'm not sure what's left."

"You can heal from that." He rolled over and kind of sat up to look up at her. "No, you can. It takes a little time but it can be done."

"I'll trust you on that." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Do you know what I want?"

"What?"

"I want to wake up tomorrow in one of those big, fluffy beds in your family's house. I want to smell an amazing breakfast downstairs. I want to hear our family and friends down there and know that we're safe. I want to take a shower and put on clean clothes and go down there and be with people who see me for who I am. And I want to rest in your arms or have you in mine and have breakfast in a safe place with the people we love." By the end of that his face was damp again.

She looked at him a long moment. "I want that too." She slid down and pulled him into her arms and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "I can give you the arms to rest in at least."

"Right now that's more than enough."


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19  
Day 05**

"I cannot decide between bacon or sausage." Spencer said.

Another day, an even later wakening after a later than usual night. Another day with not enough food and not enough energy and no good reason to get out of bed. Now he and Jo were planning their victory feast. "Both." Jo replied. "And eggs with cheese."

"Yes. Now for the hard part. Penelope makes both the most amazing French toast and the most amazing pancakes. She uses this thick French bread for her French toast in these really thick slices, so it's all custardy. But she also makes these whole-grain pancakes that have this rich, nutty flavor."

"Hmmm...think we can get her to make breakfast for us twice?"

"Possibly. I can at least ask."

"There we go then. And then on the third morning I'm making a plate of Joe's Special. Which is not named after me."

"What is Joe's special?"

"It's a spiced filling of sausage, ground beef, mushrooms and spinach. You serve it over diced potatoes or hash browns, put fried eggs on top and melt shredded swiss over the whole thing. It's to die for."

"With cinnamon buns."

"Deal." There was a knock on the door. "Damn. Is she early or are we late?" Jo asked as she went to see who wanted what.

"A little of both I think."

The door opened to reveal one of the guards with the usual small package. "Hey, Frankie." The guard said. "You want some fried chicken? We got KFC."

"What's the catch?" Jo asked, deadpan.

"Give me a shot at your boy's ass. I didn't get my turn last night."

"Yeahhhh, think I'm good with noodles tonight."

"Suit yourself. Three hours. She wants him groomed again." The guard went away, laughing.

Spencer was still watching the door, wide eyed, when she came back. "He could just force the issue."'

"That would risk damaging the merchandise, or so I heard." She started opening the package. "What they want is for me to drug you up so you'll be compliant. Then they can have their way while I eat. That shit's not going to happen." She pulled out a remarkably small bit of baby blue lace. "What is it with her and lace? And body hair?

"I think she's fantasizing that I'm younger than my actual age." Spencer said. "Late teens, early twenties."

"I can see twenties, you have that baby face thing going on. I'm sorry you have to wear this."

"I honestly don't care anymore. I think I could waltz around the BAU naked and not care."

"Really?"

Spencer considered. "Okay, maybe the conference room." The shared a laugh of sorts. "Seriously, I'm finding that I'm not as body shy as I used to be."

"Well, we have to get you cleaned up. Let's go test that." She came over to clip his hands behind his back. "If it was up to me I'd do lace boxers."

Spencer pictured lace boxers in that overstuffed bed. "I...I could do that. Yeah." Sometimes you have to take a deep breath and leap. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in lace boxers."

"Who said you wouldn't see me in lace boxers?" Joanna replied.

Right then.

* * *

The last time he wore a towel to look in the mirror after. This time he didn't bother, he just slipped off the table and padded over to have a look as he was, just to see what the lack of food was doing to him. And she noticed. "No washcloth?"

"I don't feel like I need it anymore."

"You should though. It's your body and it's your choice. Even if that means going along with them or not and accepting the consequences. Whatever you choose I'll back you."

"Good to know." He said. "You're absolutely right."

She offered him a towel.

He shook his head. "I am choosing."

Her cheeks slowly turned rose pink. "Oh."

* * *

Another night, another trip back to that first bedroom. "Is it wrong that I'm hoping that you seize up on her?" Jo asked.

"Nope." Spencer replied. "I'm kind of hoping that myself."

She ran a hand over his cheek and jaw. "I'll be waiting."

"I know."

And then she was gone.

He took a few deep breaths to compose himself, tried to focus on a spot at the end of the bed. Maybe he could will himself into that far away state.

Not that lucky. "There you are, Tup darling!" Marjorie crowed as she swept into the room. He could smell the strength of her drink under her rank perfume. "I heard you did well last night. I hope those horrid men weren't too mean to you." This wasn't a question. "Now tonight you're all mine." She pulled a chair to sit quite close to the foot of the bed, and a small table, where she left her drink. Then she went to release his arms. "I want something very special from you tonight Tup."

She hadn't given permission to speak, so Spencer didn't. He eyed her purse where she'd tossed it on the end of the bed. Maybe he could get to her phone.

"Tonight you are going to give yourself to me. Oh, not literally." She said when his eyes widened in panic. "We saw how well that worked the other day. But I didn't get to see you finish then and I so dearly wanted to. Show me that you're mine, darling. Show me now. Do it for me."

Excuse me? Spencer hesitated. Surely she did not just ask him to do that.

"What are you waiting for?" Marjorie picked up her drink, there at the foot of the bed, barely a foot away. "Stick your hands down there and start. I want to see your face when you make a mess on the quilt." She smiled. "Submit to me."

"No." Spencer said. This might not work. This might not work but he had to try. If you can make the Unsub see you as a person...he looked up and met her eyes. "I'm not going to do that. I'm not yours; I'm here against my will and..."

He was interrupted by a glass of vodka to the face.

"How dare you!" Marjorie hissed. She shoved the chair out of the way, the table over. "No one says no to me!" She backhanded Spencer across the face, a blow that snapped his head around and made him see stars. "No one ever says no to me!" This time it was a full on slap on the other cheek, sending his head flying in the other direction, setting the room spinning. "You will never say no to me again! I will see to it! _Charles_!" She called as she stormed out of the room.

Spencer didn't move. He knew what he had done.

Choice made.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20  
Day 05**

"Do they really break your hands for talking back?" Spencer asked.

After his rebellion he had been collected by one of the guards, shoved into the elevator, and then back out to Joanna one floor down. Now he was in with her and Paul, trying to figure out the situation. "Yeah." Paul replied. He wasn't upset, or at least he didn't show it, he was all business still. "They had one girl who did about six weeks ago. We reset the bones as best we could. I'd ask her how but she's still on morphine."

"Great."

"The only question I have is, knowing that, would you make a different choice?" Paul asked.

Spencer looked at Joanna, who was so sad and so brave. "No." He replied. "Some things are over the line. I won't help them break a prisoner, even if I am the prisoner."

Paul nodded. "I never thought of it that way. I'll go make sure we have what we need when the time comes." He stepped out.

And Spencer and Joanna were finally alone. "I'm sorry." Spencer said. "She asked me to submit to her, to get myself...I just couldn't do that. I..."

"No, sweetheart." Jo came over and pulled him close. "It's okay. I understand. I do. We're going to make this work. And if they do you will have the very best care after this, I'll see to it."

"I know. I just..." He could admit it to her. He could admit anything to her. "I'm scared."

"I know." She pulled him back to the bed and held him there. "I know."

* * *

 **Day 06**

He could admit anything to her. Perhaps especially now that the sun was bright and warm. "Do you know why I couldn't do that for her?"

"Lots of reasons, I'm sure."

"I've never shared that with anyone before. It's just never been right somehow. I didn't want her to be the first."

"Understandable."

"I want you to be the first."

Jo was quiet a long moment. "Well, I am honored."

"I want you to be the first before tonight happens."

"Spencer..."

"I don't want them to take that from me. I've waited too long for it to be right; I don't want to lose that to an Unsub now."

"They can't take that from you. It can only be given, never taken. And this is not the time or the place to give that away."

"And there is no way you can force a man to orgasm?" He finally rolled to look at her. "I'm sorry, I'm just sitting here terrified that she's going to find some way and make it happen on a stage in front of all of them and they are all going to laugh at me. I think I could bear that but not if it was my first time. I don't think I could mentally make it through that, I really don't. I trust you and I am falling in love with you and even if we were somewhere else I'd still want you to have that. I really would."

Joanna studied his face intently for a long moment. "They're not awake yet." She said. "They've never come in here."

"I know."

She studied him again. He saw her eyes when she made her decision and butterflies lit in his stomach. "So show me."

All of a sudden he was nervous. He could feel the tingle of blood heading where it needed to go, of his erection starting, but he wasn't certain he could do this. Could he do this? In front of someone? He had with Maeve listening over the phone, but that wasn't the same, as much as he had pretended it had been. This was much more real. He slipped his hand down his shorts to where he was getting just that hard...

"Nu uh. Get on your knees and show me properly."

Was it nerves or was it desire? So hard to tell now. He obediently got to his knees, there in the warmth of the sun, and took himself in hand again. Yes, it felt good. The human body is made to feel good, he'd been doing this since he was thirteen, like most other men. He had just never shown anyone before.

He felt more than he heard her kneel on the bed in front of him. "I want to see." She said. She reached out and snagged the waist of the shorts he was wearing, dragging them down until he popped free. Then she grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tucking it behind his neck. And now she could see everything.

She very deliberately brushed her fingers over his chest, and he caught the scent of her perfume on her handkerchief, so warm from her body, and in that moment he dropped back into the state he'd been in before.

Time seemed to stop then. Everything was this moment, this heady feeling of present and real. The pulses of sensation sweeping over him, not only from his own hand but from every time she softly stroked his body. His shoulder, his jaw, his nipple which brought a whimper, the side of his neck which brought a groan, the most tender on his thigh which made him aware of the pleading noises he was making. Oh, he didn't want this to end, he didn't want this moment to end but he was so close.

So very close

She pressed closer, still not touching him there, and he felt the warmth of her breath on the side of his neck, the gentle brush of her lips on his jaw. Her kiss melted him. God. "Look at me." She said.

She commanded.

He opened his eyes.

She was so glorious in the sun.

He was going to

He was

With a groan that came from the depths Spencer let go.

Wave after wave of pleasure took him then. He was only dimly aware that he was shaking, only dimly aware of his own heat hitting the muscles of his abdomen. All he knew was sun and beauty and the thunder of his own heartbeat.

Bless his memory for he would never forget.

He fell forward into her arms, gasping for air. Somewhere in there he forgot to breathe. He was still shaking from the force of it. Even the sun was a physical touch that just made it go on and on and on...

Joanna cradled him close, her hair a curtain of amber silk in the light. "You are the most beautiful thing on the planet." She said. "I am very honored and grateful that you shared that with me." Then she pulled him down to the bed with her.

"I'm glad I did too." Oh you could talk in this state. He just wanted to lie her and bask in it and in her arms. "I'm glad we did this now."

"So am I." She replied. "I'm not going to let you go now. I love you."

And there it was. There it was, real and true. "I love you too." He said to her.

"You..." She gently touched the hollow of his throat. "...are mine." She laid a hand over her heart.

Spencer smiled. "I am." He said. "Always."

She bent and very lightly kissed his neck, bringing another groan of pleasure, a second, smaller spasm. Oh heavens, this could just keep going. He never wanted this moment to end.

There was a knock at the door.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21  
Day 06**

"I have to admit you are brilliant, Marjorie." Blue said.

They skipped the lace this time. Jo was instructed to bring Spencer in his usual shorts up to a room that looked disturbingly like a medical office, complete with a doctor and nurse setting up. Blue was there along with Marjorie, the Unsub. "I hate to break those lovely hands." Marjorie said. "I suppose if we must, but this will solve the problem without that, surely."

"True. As long as he doesn't speak again." Blue came over and took Spencer by the ear, giving it a painful tug. "You won't, will you Tup?"

Spencer shook his head no.

"There we go then. Get him up on the table." Blue said to Jo.

With the nurse's help Spencer was quickly on the table and restrained at the wrist and chest. He was honestly growing more terrified by the moment. What did they have planned for him? What was going to happen? He and Jo didn't even have a chance to say good-bye...

"Of course I have to assume that the only reason why he spoke out in the first place is bad training." Blue was saying. "The last thing I need is a farmhand teaching my livestock to be rebellious. But this should solve that problem as well."

With that the nurse picked up a syringe from the table, stepped up behind Jo, and jabbed it into her neck.

"What the hell! You son of a..." Joanna tried to fight but she was already sagging from whatever they had given her.

"Jo?" Spencer didn't even think. "Jo? Leave her alone! What are you doing? Jo?!"

"Ah damn it." Marjorie said. "He just won't learn." She sighed and turned to Blue. "I supposed you'll have to."

"Tomorrow." Blue nodded. "But tonight there is this."

Goddamn it! Spencer felt something cold inside his elbow. He turned from where the nurse was lifting Joanna on to the other table just in time to see the doctor inserting a needle into his vein. All of a sudden he could smell burning fish. "No, please."

The smell chased him into the darkness.

* * *

Spencer had no clue how long he was unconscious.

He woke up back in their cell, cold and stiff from lying on the concrete floor. He had the worst sore throat of his life. Joanna was lying next to him, her breathing even. It was dark in the room; the janitors were cleaning across the way, which made it after nine. About eight hours then. Right. He went to the bathroom, forced water down his sore throat, and then went to wake Jo.

Only when he tried to call her no sound came out.

He murmured her name, then he said it, then he shouted it. He tried screaming at the top of his lungs. He could feel the air going through his windpipe, but there was no sound past a faint wheeze.

Apparently this was Marjorie's solution.

Perhaps sensing his distress Jo came around. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and from the way her lips moved tried to say his name, but nothing came out. He watched as her eyes widened in panic, as she tried to cry out, to scream as he had, but nothing came out. Nothing!

Finally all he could do was catch her up in his arms and hold her until she quieted. They would fix this, there had to be a way to fix this, but getting out just got a lot harder.

After Jo had calmed down she stepped back. She gently touched the hollow of his throat, and then placed her hand over her heart, love and reassurance and care shining in her eyes.

 _You are mine. Always._

He nodded and kissed her. At least I got to say I love you this time, he thought. At least there was that.

She held up a finger for him to wait and stepped out of the door.

* * *

Jo found Paul in the medic room, a small closet that held most of their supplies. A white board hung on one wall, likely a relic from the previous use of this space. Jo went in and picked up the marker that went with it. _You're not going to believe this._ She wrote. _Bitch took our voices away._

"She what?" Paul asked.

 _Took our voices away. As punishment for Spencer speaking out. I don't know how but neither of us can talk anymore._

"Oh that goddamed, piece of..."

Jo waited until the cursing ran out. _Got any paper and pens?_

"Yeah." He reached into a full bin and handed her a pack of Post-it notes and a pencil. "Those are all I've got, and the board there. Good luck with that."

 _Thanks_. She headed back to Spencer.

* * *

After a few minutes Joanna came back with a pencil and a stack of Post-it notes. _No matter what, I still love you._ She wrote. Spencer looked at what she was writing. No, what she was writing on. He peeled one off the stack and turned it back and forth. _He only has Post-its and his whiteboard._ She wrote.

But Spencer was eyeing the notes, with a look on his face that only the BAU had ever really seen. He took the pencil and wrote: _Does he have any more Post-its?_

She nodded.

 _A lot more?_


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22  
Day 07**

Truth was Agent Carol Peller was an analyst. She spent most of her time generating reports on this or that. She'd never even investigated a crime. She certainly didn't expect to discover one before she had her morning coffee.

"Hey Carol." One of the women in the office said. "Come take a look at this." She moved over to the window beside her. The people in the building next door were putting up big, yellow letters in the windows of the floor above them. "Sos Bau Hotch." She read as they finished the last letter. "I wonder what it means. Maybe it's one of those viral game things."

"Hotch." She thought back to some of the reports she'd read. "There's an Aaron Hotchner with the Bureau. His people call him Hotch."

"Oh?"

"In the Behavioral Analyst Unit. The BAU."

"So what does SOS mean? I mean, in this context."

Carol picked up the phone.

* * *

Come on. Spencer thought. Come on, come on, comeoncomeon.

They'd gotten up very early, while everyone up here was asleep, to put up a message in enormous Post-it letters in the windows facing the Hoover Building. Spencer stood at the blank window between the S and the B, the window of their cell and watched the activity in the building below. He had seen people come to the window to point and stare, of course, but he had also seen more than one pick up their phone. Now if one of them would just recognize the name and call Hotch...

And then the serious face he most wanted to see appeared in the window. At this angle Hotch couldn't see him but the letters were clear. Okay, Spencer though, now call in the team and realize you can't get through to me.

He waited.

He saw Morgan come to the window and look, and JJ, and Dave although he was dressed for vacation. Now come get a better look...

He watched Morgan step out of the door on the roof and start scanning the building with binoculars.

When Morgan got to his window he held up the whiteboard about chest high. _Found a trafficking ring_ The message on the board said.

Morgan face palmed so hard Spencer thought he could hear him groan through the glass.

When he looked back Spencer erased and started writing _. Get a white board and a parabolic mike. I don't know when the guards will wake up._

Morgan nodded and got on his phone.

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity on both sides. Paul and Jo took down the Post-it letters so Darius and his henchmen wouldn't catch them. Hotch, Dave and even JJ came up to take a look. Eventually the gear they needed made it up to the top. _You okay?_ Morgan wrote.

 _I'm not dying. Set up the mike_. Spencer picked up one of the remaining post-its and wrote to Joanna. _Go get Paul._

 _Who else is up there? How many victims?_

 _Hold on._ Spencer watched as the mike was set up and pointed at the window of the building.

Then Paul came in next to him. "What are they doing?" Spencer nodded at the roof top, at the microphone pointed at the glass. "Hot damn. Okay, my name is Petty Officer Paul Johnson. I'm a corpsman with the 2nd Recon, USMC..."

Spencer stepped back to let Paul brief the team. He pulled Joanna into his arms, buried his face in the crook of her shoulder.

They were finally going home.

* * *

Down in the conference room a small army of agents was assembling. Mostly FBI, of course, but some DCPD and then another group showed up. "I'm looking for Agent Hotchner." The man in front said.

"I'm Hotchner." Hotch said. He was looking over another agent's shoulder, studying the layout of the building.

"Gibbs, NCIS. I hear you found my Petty Officer."

"He's being held by a human trafficking ring on the top floors of the building across the street." Hotch looked up and met eyes as hard as his. "Along with one of my agents." Translation: This is personal.

"Understood." Gibbs replied. Translation: "My" Agent is the only thing that would trump Navy in this situation. I won't fight for command here. "Need extra hands?"

"As many as we can get." Dave replied. "If your man is correct we're looking at forty-four victims up there."

"He is. He has the experience and an excellent record."

"I'd like to see his file." Hotch said.

"Of course. I brought my computer expert to help."

"I can use all the help I can get sir." Penelope said.

One of the NCIS guys came and started setting up next to her. "Tim McGee." He said. Then he looked at her screen. "Wait, you're the...are you the..."

Penelope held up one gaily decorated finger. "Be quiet." She said. "And follow my lead."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay, taking the Petty Officer's report into account we're looking at a major casualty incident." JJ was saying. "Forty-four victims, all of them injured, traumatized or on drugs of some kind. How are we going to set up for that many victims without letting the Unsubs on?"

"Mass casualty incident drill." Gibbs said. "Only we'll know it's not a drill."

"Good idea." Dave said. He moved to a map on a screen. "Now where do we set up?"

"Navy Archives." Gibbs said. "It's a half a block from here. And the courtyard is large enough to land a helo."

"Can you make that happen?" Hotch asked.

"Give me ten minutes."

"We're going to need lots of bodies to manage this." JJ said.

Will was acting as DCPD liaison. "I'll call over and let my guys know what's going on. We can start calling in people off shift."

The computer guy who came in with NCIS smiled. "We know some Marines who would love to help out."

* * *

Once they had a plan underway Hotch and Gibbs climbed to the roof where they could be seen. Morgan had been up there with the guy with the mike the whole time. Gibbs turned around so Paul could see the back of his jacket as he wrote on the board. _You good?_

"Yes sir." Through the binoculars they could see Paul grinning. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you, sir. You tell my boys I'm coming back with honor, just let me get about twelve meals down and I'll be ready to go."

Gibbs smiled at that. "Any idea what he's been doing up there?" He asked.

"They've been making him work as a medic for the other victims." Morgan said. "We've seen him working over people in a couple of other windows already. He says he hasn't been injured."

"That's all right."

All of a sudden there was a flurry of movement in the window they were watching. Paul disappeared. They looked at each other nervously. After a moment Spencer came back _. Guards are awake._ He wrote. _Back off. Leave the mike. What's your ETA?_

"Your agent?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes." Hotch replied.

They cleared some of the personnel off the roof, and the mike guy hid behind a roof vent, but for the moment they kept the board. After asking downstairs Hotch wrote _3 hours._

There was some movement, and then Spencer wrote. _Unsub wants me upstairs. Paul will return ASAP_

 _Why upstairs?_

In reply he gave them a pointed look and pulled off his shirt.

All of the men on the roof winced. "You're going to have some work to do there." Gibbs said. "He looks young."

"Looks." Hotch replied. "He's thirty-three, been with this unit for twelve years. This isn't his first situation."

"All right."

"I need my people downstairs. Can one of your men take over?"

"Yeah. I'll get DiNozzo up here."

* * *

They went downstairs and Hotch told everyone what happened. "I don't want this to go a minute past three hours." He said. "I have no doubt Dr. Reid is counting every minute. Make this happen." As people got back to work he pulled Morgan aside. "I want you in with the first wave." He said. "Find Reid."

Morgan nodded. "Will do."

* * *

So goddamed close to rescue. Why did they have to pick today to get started early?

No special clothing today. Joanna secured Spencer's hands and led him upstairs in his shorts, back to the locker room. But as she brought him in to the center of the room Blue and Marjorie were right behind them. "Take his shorts and go." Blue said.

Of course he was going to be rescued in his birthday suit. Spencer sighed a little and stepped out of the shorts, giving Jo one last look as she went. Then he sank back to his knees to wait. He didn't look up but pairs of boots came into view. A lot of pairs of boots. "You gentlemen know what to do." Blue said. "Get it over with before my guests come."

"Yes sir." Darius said from somewhere behind Spencer.

Spencer heard the tap of fine high heels and smelled the reek of perfume, and then Marjorie stuck a hand in his hair and yanked back so she could see his face. "You're going to want to beg for mercy." She said. "You're going to regret wasting that privilege." She looked up at the men around them. "Get a girl in here to get him hard before you start. I'd like to add some insult to injury."

"Yes, Ma'am."

No

Then the men were on him. They knocked Spencer to his back and pulled his arms out to the sides, pinning his wrists under their heavy boots. He tried to struggle but it was impossible. Spencer watched as they brought a woman in, one with bright colored hair and a pale body and the hazy, wandering eyes of drug use.

"Get your mouth busy girl." Darius said, giving her a push.

She dropped to her knees between Spencer's legs and put her hands on him

He smelled freshly cut grass and the world started to tunnel.

She started working him, and her mouth went down.

It was all so very far away.

* * *

.

* * *

Note: End of Part 2


	24. Chapter 23

**Part 3**

 **Chapter 23  
Day 10**

Apparently Joanna Miller lived in Georgetown.

Dave didn't seem inclined to talk on the way there so Morgan didn't press. He just drove. Down a main stem, left and past a museum, left, right. It seemed like an alleyway. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Money in the family." Dave said. "As it was explained to me some ancestor bought this house complex back before the horseless carriage. It's a big family and most of them are in public service one way or another so they turned the buildings into apartments. Family members stay in them when they're in town. The whole thing was set up before people needed garages; those were put in around them. Up here."

Up here was an overgrown hedge between two garages. No, not a hedge, a wall with a gate in the middle. "Do we knock?" Morgan asked.

"There's an intercom around here somewhere." Dave started lifting the strands of ivy on one side.

Sure enough there was an intercom. Also, the name of the family. "Blake?!" No way. Wait. "Alex's maiden name is Miller. That's right."

Dave nodded as he pressed the buzzer. "Her older brother Danny's daughter." The intercom clicked on but no sound came out. "Joanna, it's Dave Rossi. I..." He didn't get any farther. The gate lock clicked open. "A few months after Danny died his wife was in a car crash." Dave said as they went through the gate and into a garden surrounded by brick buildings. "She didn't make it. Her family didn't want Jo so Alex and Jim took her in."

"Why didn't her mother's family want her?"

"How can I put this politely?"

He didn't have to. A woman came out of one of the buildings and ran straight into Dave's arms. She looked tired and frail, but she carried a beauty much like his sisters. "My kind of family." Morgan nodded. Assuming Danny Miller took after his sister Alex then Joanna's mother was black.

"Yeah." Dave held the quietly weeping woman. "There there bella. It's going to be okay now. Spencer is safe." She looked up at him, relief shining in her eyes. "He's in the hospital but he's going to be okay. He'd like to see you though." She nodded like that was the best thing in the world.

She led them back into one of the buildings. It had been turned into town houses, but with respect for the history of the building. A desk in the living room yielded paper and pencil. I _didn't know how to get in touch with anyone last night._ She wrote. _I tried email._

"We've been a little too busy to check." Dave said. "Last night. What day is it?"

 _Wednesday_

"Try Friday."

She looked confused but shook her head. _Friday?_

"Losing time is a sign of psychological trauma. But you know you been to the hospital yet?" Dave asked. She shook her head. "I'm going to take you to get checked out and see Spencer. He's going to stay with me until he recovers; I have room if you'd like to stay as well, at least until your Aunt and Uncle get back."

She didn't have to think too hard. _I'd like that, thank you. Let me go pack._

"Sure."

When Jo went upstairs Morgan turned to Dave. "There has to be more to this story."

"Jo was in the car with her mother. She had multiple injuries, spent over a year in the hospital. The wife's family didn't want to take her in, and Alex's father wasn't really thrilled with it either so Alex and James took her. They'd lost a child a few years before and were ready for more family."

"I can guess why her mother's family didn't want to take her in. My mother's family would have had trouble taking my family in." Like it or not, racism was a thing.

Dave nodded. "It was never a problem for Alex and James. Titles aside, she's their daughter."

"Always knew they were good people."

"Anyway about six years ago Joanna got a chance to do her grad work over in the UK. Cambridge. She's been studying over there ever since."

"Not something to turn down."

"Not at all. Alex said she took a research position at Georgetown this coming year. I thought she said Jo was going to move back next month."

"But she came back early and went shopping at the wrong store. I can see it." Morgan nodded. "Where are Blake and her husband now?"

"Tanzania. James had to do some follow up work for MSF, Alex went with him for vacation. I don't even know how to contact them."

"Baby girl will figure it out. You know, this explains a lot. Reid and Alex were always tight."

Dave smiled for the first time in days. "I don't think she'll object to having him around the house."

* * *

Spencer had been sitting in bed, his eyes closed against the warmth of the sun on his face. He'd been remembering everything that had happened, and wondering what would happen now. Was she all right? Would she return to him? Would she still want him?

He missed her.

Then he felt someone sit on the edge of the bed. Someone who carried the scent of rich perfume.

He opened his eyes and she was there. Right there. No, the Unsubs didn't take her away. She was right there, safe no matter what. She looked so tired and so beautiful. She smiled at him, hope in her eyes, and gently touched one long finger to the hollow of his throat, and then placed her hand over her heart.

 _Are you still mine?_

Spencer nodded hard.

 _Yes, oh yes, please let me still be yours._

Words were entirely overrated.

Then she was in his arms again, and her lips met his, and the world was right.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24  
Day 10**

"I didn't even know Blake had a niece." JJ said.

The team was clustered at the door, watching this reunion going on. "She was in Europe." Dave replied. "Doing her grad work."

"Oh, here she is. Doctor Joanna Miller." Penelope said, looking at her tablet. "I always feel better when I can find someone. Awww." She said as she checked out the couple. "So now what?"

"I'm going to take Jo down to be checked out and then take them both back to my place." Dave said. "Alex wouldn't want her to be alone right now and I don't think we're going to be splitting them up anytime soon. Can you find a way to get word to Alex?"

"If it's possible I'll make it happen."

"Great. Thank you."

"I'll go down with you." JJ said. "You might want a woman along. And it would be good for me to move."

"You sure?" Morgan asked.

"As long as I don't have to rush." JJ ran a hand over her very tight belly. "The pressure might get this one to hurry it along."

"Tired of being pregnant?"

"You have no idea."

"Looks like they're ready for company." Hotch said.

They trooped in, and found Jo curled up in the bed next to Spencer. "Okay, now we have to figure out a way for you two to answer a knock." Morgan said.

Spencer considered this, then found the alphabet sheet. ONCEYES

"And twice no. Okay. You two ready for company?"

Spencer tapped a cast off the table once.

Introductions were made all around. "If you're ready we should really get you checked out." Dave said.

Spencer looked at her, a question in his eyes. _I went home._ She wrote. _I didn't know what else to do._

"How did that happen anyway?" JJ asked.

* * *

One moment she was pacing around in front of the med room as usual, the next all hell was breaking loose.

Jo was an academic and a doctor. What the hell did she know about big men with guns.

"Get down!" Paul said. He jerked her into the med room and on to the floor. "Keep your hands where they can see them."

One of the men stopped in the doorway. "Petty officer Johnson?" He asked.

Paul looked up. "NCIS. That's my ride. Come on." He grabbed Jo by the elbow and pulled her up. "She's one of the victims." He said. "How do we get out of here?"

"This way."

Jo followed Paul who was following the man in front of them. But they were running down the stairs a little too fast, and they got out ahead of her. They emerged in the underground garage, which seemed like chaos. Not helped by not having been outside in weeks...

"Johnson!" Someone yelled out.

"Grizzy!" Paul yelled back.

As Jo watched he ran up to a group of large men who started embracing him. Those must be members of his unit, she thought. He's going home. Good.

And then a helicopter took off from just beyond that building. As she watched a small group of men with FBI on their vests piled into a car and took off in the same direction. They must be taking Spencer to the hospital, she thought. They'll take care of him, I know they will.

Now what do I do?

"Hey lady!" Jo turned and found a cop standing there. "This is an active crime scene! You can't be in here!" She obviously wasn't under arrest, but she also wasn't injured or high as a kite. Before she could get a post-it out of her pocket to tell him that she was a victim he took her arm and shoved her behind a barricade. "Don't make me arrest you!" He said.

Um, okay.

She looked around and spotted a cab a little ways away. I don't know where Spencer is, she thought, but his family is with him. And Paul's family is with him. My family isn't here, but that doesn't mean they can't help.

She went over to the cab driver and wrote him a note. _Take me to Georgetown?_

The driver looked and shrugged. "Sure thing lady."

* * *

 _So I went home._ Joanna wrote. _We keep a little stash of emergency cab money inside the gate, and spare keys behind a combo lock in the greenhouse. I got something to eat out of the pantry and went to bed. I think I may have repeated that a few times._

"That was probably a stress reaction." JJ said.

"At least you two are safe." Dave said. "That's the important thing. Let's get you downstairs, they're going to give you a once over."

 _I'm not injured. They never laid a hand on me._

"Humor me. Besides, what would your Aunt say?'

Jo sighed, nodded, got up from the bed, kissed Spencer on the temple, and went down with Dave and JJ.

"You look better." Penelope said as she settled next to the bed.

Spencer thought about this, nodded and found the alphabet card.

JOISSAFE

"You're better because you know Jo is safe?" He nodded, and Penelope smiled. "That's understandable. We really need to find a better option than these cards."

"You know it's going to be four to six weeks before you two can make with the healing." Morgan said with a grin.

"Are you sure?" Penelope asked. "Do you have to be careful? Do you have...stitches?" She practically whispered the last part.

"He does." Morgan replied. "They have him on something to make sure he doesn't pull on any of them."

In other words, to keep from becoming erect. If Spencer could groan he would have. All this and they still couldn't be together like they wanted.

"I can get that."

"Speaking of Unsubs, did you know their names?" Penelope asked.

Spencer slowly smiled. ONE

"We have a list." She booted her laptop and started reading off female names. She stopped when he nudged her. "Marjorie Berkshire. Oh my god, she's, like, ancient."

Morgan looked over Penelope's shoulder. "Yeah, she's 87. And she can afford very good lawyers. You know, she's never going to trial." Spencer nodded with a slow smile. "And you're okay with this?"

HAVEAPLAN

* * *

.

* * *

So I am going to take a little hiatus over the holiday. I'll be back on the 27th. To answer a question I have, since questions aren't allowed here, please check this chapter on AO3. Thanks and have a happy holiday.


End file.
